


Mirages

by astraplain



Category: Gorgeous Carat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10080716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraplain/pseuds/astraplain
Summary: Azura challenges Ray to solve a mystery, and Florian is the prize





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: contains scenes of dubious consent, coercion and violence

Ray Courland had a fondness for seaports. The excitement after the relative calm of a sea voyage was always welcome, as was the promise of a new adventure. Of course, the general confusion helped, giving him plenty of opportunities to fill his pockets with souvenirs.

"Pardon me," he said smoothly in French, sliding past a particularly obnoxious fellow traveler and liberating his diamond-studded cigar case on the way. It fit neatly in Ray's pocket along with a ruby brooch, a gold flask and an onyx ring.

"Monsieur Courland?" A young man wearing simple Arabian robes stepped forward to greet Ray. "Azura sent me to greet you, sir."

Ray relaxed slightly, accepting the note that the young man handed him. Scanning the brief message and studying the seal and signature at the bottom he decided it was genuine. Ray slipped the note into his pocket and motioned for the man to proceed.

A car was waiting for them, Ray’s luggage already loaded into the trunk. A hoard of curious youngsters crowded in on them as they tried to get into the car. Azura’s servant shouted and tried to wave the onlookers away without success so Ray took a small handful of coins from his pocket and threw them to the side. The crowd scrambled for the money and while they were distracted, the men drove off. 

It was a relief to be returning to Morocco. It had been more than six years since he'd left Fez and no matter how many other countries he visited, Ray never felt that he belonged. His aunt and uncle had meant well, taking him to Paris and making sure he had a good education, but Ray had hated leaving his dearest friend, Azura, and the only life he'd ever known.

His aunt and uncle had been kind to him and tried their best to make him feel loved. The rest of the family, however, along with most of Parisian society, had wanted nothing to do with 'that dark savage' and had treated him with disdain.

Their rejection had only made Ray more determined to succeed and he'd quickly shown them that he didn't need their approval or their connections. By the time he graduated top of his class from the Sorbonne, he had amassed his own small fortune from a combination of high-interest loans to fellow students, and the well-refined skill of pilfering.

The death of his aunt and uncle in a winter carriage accident just before his graduation had provided him with a large inheritance and a number of prime properties including the family mansion in Paris. He expanded his usury business, making customers of those who regarded him with such disdain. He also adopted the alter ego of Noir, the Phantom Thief and became more selective in his late night acquisitions.

Still, at eighteen, he was restless and easily bored. He hated the strict rules of polite society in Paris and found himself spending as little time there as possible. He had no real friends in that new life, and there were few who he could trust - especially not his own relatives.

He'd spent the last four months traveling - visiting some of the properties he'd inherited and taking on a few clients along the way. He'd also obtained a rather impressive collection of jewelry as Noir, but without someone to share his exploits he was losing interest in that too. It was just as he was deciding to move on to Italy that Azura's message finally reached him. It had taken him just one day to make arrangements and set off for Morocco.

Ray loosened his tie and the top button of his shirt. He could barely wait to reach Azura's and change into more appropriate garb. No matter how good he looked in suits, he preferred the freedom of loose robes.

He looked around eagerly taking in the familiar sites and noting the unfamiliar ones. A lot had changed in the years he'd been away, and he wondered if his old friend Isaac was still living. He'd have to ask Azura.

Pressing a hand against his breast pocket, Ray could feel Azura's message safely tucked into the pocket. He didn't need to read it - he'd memorized the contents. Azura had a mystery to solve and needed Ray's assistance. Ray would have accepted any invitation to visit, but the addition of a mystery made the visit even better. Among polite society, there weren't nearly enough opportunities for Ray to stretch his mind - which was one of the reasons he'd become Noir. All the aristocrats seemed capable of discussing were scandals and investment opportunities.

Azura, on the other hand, was a man much like Ray. Someone who appreciated a good puzzle - who relished the chance to stretch his imagination, his logic and every other skill he possessed. Ray smiled at the memories of Azura challenging him - making him solve puzzles and riddles in exchange for food or blankets. That training had helped him outwit dull souk keepers in the marketplace on many occasions and had provided food and other necessities for their small band of orphans.

Ray hadn't been the biggest, oldest or strongest, but he had been the fastest and one of the cleverest of their little band and he'd done his part to keep the group fed, sheltered and safe. He'd paid a heavy price for living on the streets when his mother was ill and just after she died. He wouldn't have survived and kept his freedom if it wasn't for Azura - the boy had saved him from a cruel beating; had cared for him while he healed and then had taken him in and made him part of the group.

Everything Ray was, everything he had, he owed to Azura. He remembered that last, terrible attack - when a band of youth had come after Ray and Azura had stepped between them, receiving a knife wound to the face that had blinded his one eye and left a terrible scar. Ray was sure Azura would have sent him away after that; but instead, Ray's aunt and uncle arrived and took him to Paris. Ray would have given anything to stay, but, at the time, he felt he didn't deserve a place at Azura’s side.

It was only later, over months and years communicating by infrequent letters, that Ray understood that he had truly been forgiven and was able to accept, and then depend on Azura's friendship again.

It helped that Azura had been adopted and gone to America for a while. He'd been healed - although the scar still remained and the eye was still blind - educated, groomed and made the heir to a vast fortune by an American who may or may not have been Azura's actual father.

According to his letters, Azura didn't care one way or the other about his parentage – he liked the man and was grateful for the opportunities he now had. Ray was glad for every letter he received from his friend, but they also left him confused. There had always been a fierce streak in Azura, a bit of ruthlessness that let him do what he needed to survive, but changes in the way he communicated in his letters made it seem as if that side of him was more dominant now.

It had bothered Ray at first, but as he spent more time in Parisian society, he came to understand and appreciate Azura's hardness. These were not kind people, and did not deserve kindness in return. Running the usury was Ray's private joke at the expense of those who often mocked him. He couldn't begrudge Azura his own form of payback.

Ray leaned back and watched attentively as they traveled more familiar territory. There were some obvious changes here, near the marketplace he'd grown up around, but there were many things, and even a few people, that he recognized. 

After a few turns down narrow streets, the car stopped in front of a gate and the driver blew the horn twice. Immediately the gates opened and the car drove through into an enclosed paradise.

This was the kind of place he and Azura used to imagine living in. They'd press their faces to the bars of the elaborate gates and gaze into a wonderland they could only imagine. Now it seemed Azura had claimed his childhood fantasy and made it real.

As soon as the car stopped, a servant ran forward and opened the door for Ray while two others started unloading his bags. Ray was escorted into the entry hall of the mansion where he was offered the chance to freshen up before being presented to his host.

Feeling cooler and more relaxed, Ray was led into a comfortable salon where Azura was waiting for him. Arms open, Azura strode forward and the two friends embraced.

"Welcome, Ray. Come relax while the servants unpack and prepare your room."

Ray settled onto a low, overstuffed sofa, sighing as the cushions cradled him. He was more tired than he realized, but he was also anxious to learn more about Azura's mystery.

"I know that look," Azura said with a laugh. "You want to know more about my little puzzle." Azura settled down next to Ray and patted his leg. "Soon, my impatient friend, but first - I believe I mentioned a reward for your assistance." Azura reached past Ray and picked up a small gold bell, ringing it before setting it down again and slowly pulling back from Ray.

Ray was studying Azura curiously, a bit confused by his behavior, and so he missed the servant's entrance.

"Refreshments, sir?"

Ray turned, startled by the new person's presence and by his cultured French. He blindly took something from the tray, his attention caught by the man's startling amethyst-colored eyes. Ray was still staring as the man turned and offered the tray to Azura.

"Thank you, Florian." Azura placed his hand on Florian's arm in a manner that could only be interpreted as proprietary. "Join us."

The man nodded obediently and straightened, giving Ray a moment to study him from the top of his platinum blond hair down the length of his slender form. He was pale with handsome features and slender, soft hands. His suit was the latest Paris fashion and fit him well, accenting his long legs.

Beside him, Azura started to laugh. He leaned in close and spoke softly into Ray's ear, "I knew you couldn't resist a pair of amethysts such as those. Solve my little riddle and they're yours. I'll even give you a taste later if you'd like."

Ray shifted in his seat as Florian leaned over and set his tray down on a low table, giving Ray a nice view. By the time Florian settled on a cushion at Azura's feet, Ray had silently agreed to Azura's offer.  
+++++

"More lemonade?" Florian asked, rising to his knees and taking up the pitcher. Ray and Azura had been reminiscing while they enjoyed the light refreshments that Florian served. Florian himself had been silent, sitting at Azura's feet while Azura absently ran his fingers through Florian's fine gold hair.

Ray's eyes kept straying to that contact and he found himself imagining the feel of that silken hair sliding through his fingers. Azura's smile let Ray know that that older man knew what Ray was thinking, but Ray couldn't bring himself to stop. He'd always had a weakness for beautiful things.

"Why don't you go change into more comfortable clothing, Florian?" Azura suggested as Florian topped off Ray's glass and then Azura's, taking none for himself. "You may rejoin us for supper." He took the pitcher from Florian's hand and motioned for the blond to leave them. Florian nodded to each of them and hurried out, closing the door behind him.

"Now that you've seen the incentive, shall we discuss the task at hand?" Azura practically purred as he leaned in close to Ray and pressed his lips against Ray's ear. As soon as he finished speaking, he ran the tip of his tongue down Ray's ear to the lobe where he nipped lightly at the sensitive skin.

"I happened upon an ancient text containing what I believe to be a riddle. I need you to translate it and then solve it for me. If you succeed, and I obtain the object I seek, those amethysts are yours." Azura shifted even closer and whispered against Ray's neck. "I assure you, they are a rare prize; purebred French aristocracy, and just as passionate as you might imagine."

"A fine reward indeed," Ray replied, shifting to reclaim a little of the advantage for himself. It never paid to give Azura complete control without at least a token resistance. The man enjoyed it far too much. "Tell me how you came by such a specimen; surely there's a story worth the telling."

"It's hardly an exploit worthy of Noir," Azura countered Ray's attempts to gain control, turning the tables on the younger man by sliding out of his grasp and dropping to his knees on the pillow Florian had used. Azura used this new position to look directly into Ray's eyes. While Florian had been subservient while on his knees, Azura merely used it as an opportunity to make his power clear - toying with Ray like a cat plays with its prey.

The friendship was there, but layered with levels of power and control that their previous relationship had only hinted at. Ray suddenly understood how things had changed but he was clever enough to adapt without hesitation. Power could be held in many ways; he now knew Azura's way. There would be time for him to claim it his way once he understood his situation more completely.

"Surely it was clever of you to obtain such a prize." Flattery was a tricky gambit, but Ray tested it anyway, measuring Azura's satisfied smile and the way his body relaxed slightly.

"No more clever than you would have been had you read your mail. I believe Lady Rochefort made several attempts to contact you before turning to other benefactors." Azura's smile was almost smug now and Ray had a sudden memory of letters left unread from his distant relative, Madame du Rochefort. He'd been right in assuming that she wanted money, but he'd clearly underestimated her assets if that beautiful man was part of the bargain.

"Florian du Rochefort?" Ray asked, not really needing the confirmation. He damned himself three times over when Azura merely nodded.

"You may have heard rumors of the proud Rochefort’s recent misfortunes; the Duke has been dead for more than ten years now, and most of the family assets were either lost years ago in the uprising or spent on his medical care. And of course the Lady did insist on maintaining the lifestyle she was accustomed to; lavish parties and extended trips across Europe. When I received her plea for assistance, I thought she would use the famous family diamond as collateral, but she claims the gem was sold off decades ago. It turns out her only remaining asset was her son."

For a moment Ray saw red; he knew it was common practice among the aristocracy to barter with their children, but the practice sickened him. He'd seen first-hand the result of some of those trades in the vacant eyes of young women and the harsh grip of cruel men. It was rarer, but not unheard of, for young men to be traded in the same way. For a moment, Ray felt a spike of remorse for his desire for Florian, but he set it aside, knowing that either he or Azura were better masters than some of the louts he dealt with in Paris.

"I had intended to remain in Paris for a few weeks, to allow Florian to adjust, but Florian's mother died unexpectedly just a few days after we'd finalized our agreement. The family mansion caught fire and she was trapped inside. Florian was nearly catatonic with grief so I cut short my business in Europe and brought him here to Morocco. As you can see, he has completely recovered."

Ray smiled, accepting the story at face value, while carefully noting Azura's manner. He considered the man a dear friend, but he was far too cautious not to see that there was much more to Azura's story.

For one thing, Ray didn't know many purebred aristocrats who were as docile and subservient as the blond who had knelt at Azura's feet. It was possible this was the man's real personality, but judging by Azura's manner, it was far more likely that it was the result of Azura's training.

Ray remembered vividly the few times he'd been disciplined by Azura, and he remembered watching as Azura disciplined the other orphans in their group. Azura had always insisted he was doing it to insure their safety, but Ray remembered the look in Azura's eyes and the smile he'd barely managed to hide.

No, there was no question in Ray's mind that Florian had been trained by Azura. The question was - trained for what? Although it went against his better judgment, Ray knew he wouldn't stop until he'd learned the answer to that question.

Ray was startled out of his thoughts by Azura's laughter.

"My dear, Ray, I can only imagine what you must be thinking. Such an interesting expression you're wearing. I assure you, there's more here than you are aware of." Azura patted Ray's knee and stood, moving to a small table, which he unlocked with a tiny gold key. Inside was a parchment scroll. Azura handled it carefully as he motioned for Ray to follow him to a small desk in the corner of the room looking out into the courtyard. It was well-lit from the afternoon sun but shaded enough to be comfortably warm rather than hot.

"Just a glimpse now to whet your appetite, and then you should change and perhaps rest a little before dinner. There will be time enough to work on this in the days ahead."

"Have you made a copy?"

"Two – one for you and one for me to study. But they must be kept safe at all times. There is any number of people who would kill for this document."

Ray looked up at Azura, surprised by the coldness of his voice. He knew there was far more to the story than Azura was telling him but he had time to pursue that later. Right now he wanted to focus on the parchment. He leaned closer, touching the ancient document lightly, conscious of how old and precious it was. It appeared to be part of a larger work, as the colorful border of twisting vines and columns extended from the top of the page to the bottom. An equally elaborate design connected the two columns at the top and bottom of the page, completing the border. The colors were rich, but showed signs of age, as did the text in the center – the black ink having faded to brown. The parchment itself was the rich, heavy material usually reserved for the most important documents.

It was difficult to read some of the more elaborate letters, but after nearly twenty minutes of intense study, Ray felt that he'd at least successfully identified each of the characters. He compared that to the neat copy Azura had given him and was pleased with the quality and accuracy. The copy would be much easier to work with and the clear dark ink would be easier on his eyes.

"You'll have to compliment Florian on his copies," Azura said as he carefully rolled the scroll and returned it to the locked compartment. "He's got a keen eye and sure hand." Azura's tone made it clear he wasn't just talking about penmanship.

"You seem rather taken with him," Ray commented as he secured his copy of the document inside the desk as Azura indicated. He stood slowly, suddenly realizing how stiff and tired he was from traveling.

"He amuses me, for now" Azura said lightly, placing a hand against Ray's face. "You know how I like to be amused."

"I do," Ray replied, annoyed that his voice had dropped to match Azura's. He leaned in just a little, savoring the contact before catching himself and pulling back. He was tired and not thinking clearly.

"Rest, my friend," Azura urged, taking up the small bell and ringing for a servant. Although he wouldn't admit it, Ray was disappointed when someone other than Florian responded.

He followed the servant to a large and comfortable guest suite where he washed quickly and then collapsed face down among the pillows on the overstuffed mattress.

He didn't wake until well after dark.  
+++++

"You make the most interesting noises when you sleep," Florian remarked casually, smiling in greeting as Ray opened his eyes, Before Ray could compose himself, Florian settled on the edge of the bed and continued to admire the onyx ring Ray had acquired while disembarking from the ship earlier that day.

"Do you make a habit of invading someone's privacy while they sleep?" Ray snapped, discomfited to be caught unaware. 

"Not usually, no. But I do bore easily, and you slept a long time." Florian leaned back on his elbows, stretching his long legs out on the bed and making himself comfortable amid the rumpled bedding.

Ray rolled over and out of the bed as quickly as he could without making himself look foolish; needing to regain the upper hand in this unsettling encounter. He frowned as Florian continued to admire the ring, turning it to catch the light. It was a nice piece, but too dark against the pale skin. Ray immediately substituted various gems and annoyed himself by choosing amethyst as the fitting jewel to compliment Florian's elegant features - a far too obvious choice.

"I prefer jade," Florian told him, rising easily and catching Ray's hand where he dropped the onyx ring with casual disregard. He stood closer than was considered polite and regarded Ray openly. "Shall I draw your bath?"

It must be well past dinnertime," Ray replied, taking a step sideways to put some distance between him and this curious man. It wasn't often that he found someone whose motives he couldn't read, but this man had him feeling completely off kilter.

"Azura ate hours ago. He sent me here with a tray for us to share and a request that you join him for breakfast." Florian moved gracefully across the room to a table where a large tray was overflowing with fruits, pastries and sandwiches. He picked up a piece of sugared pear and sucked on it delicately, watching as Ray stood uncertainly beside the bed.

When Ray moved to the wardrobe on the far side of the room and began fussing with his clothing, Florian sighed and dropped into a chair.

"Count Courland I assure you, I'm as properly housebroken as any French aristocrat. I only bite when both parties are willing." Florian threw his head back and laughed at Ray's incredulous look. "Come now, surely you've been in Paris society long enough to see past the facade? I'm not an innocent or a fool. Now will you dine with me or dine alone? Either way, we'll be seeing a great deal of one another."

Florian gave Ray a leer that almost made the man blush. It seemed that he'd misread the situation to a surprising degree. That was a rare enough occurrence, but to discover that the man he thought of as submissive was brazen enough to invade his bedchamber and go through his belongings... Ray didn't know how he felt about that.

Conceding for now, Ray excused himself to freshen up and returned comfortably attired in robes similar to Florian's. The familiar garb helped Ray regain some of his equilibrium and he took a seat at the table, eating enthusiastically. 

"Much better," Florian commented, giving him a warm smile. His behavior was more subdued now and he seemed more like what Ray had expected - well mannered and slightly repressed. It made Ray wonder which behavior was real and which the blond had adopted in order to survive his current circumstances.

"You're thinking far too much for this late in the evening," Florian teased, claiming another piece of sugared pear - a treat the man clearly favored. "Shall I answer your questions before you strain something?"

Ray motioned for him to proceed, then poured himself a cup of hot tea and sat back, still idly picking at items from the tray.

"Mother didn't make the decision to sell me to the highest bidder - I did. And I chose Azura over a selection of the wealthiest men in Europe. He wasn't the richest, or the kindest of the lot, but he's smart and likes a challenge. He didn't want a pretty bauble and I didn't want to be someone's ornament - silent and easily put aside." Florian leaned in close and lowered his voice. "It's not a safe choice, but then none of them were. Azura likes to put me on my knees, but he also likes for me to be useful outside of the bedroom. I'm not as smart as you or Azura, but I can be useful." With a grin, Florian pulled back, lifting his hand to show Ray the onyx ring resting comfortably on his ring finger.

Ray couldn't stop his immediate response, casting a glimpse towards the bathroom where he had left his clothing, including the onyx ring, which he'd placed in one of the pockets in his trousers.

How had Florian managed to acquire the ring in the few seconds after he'd returned it to Ray and before Ray walked to the other side of the room and then into the bathroom?

Florian's delighted laugh filled the room. He looked like a child who'd gotten exactly what he wanted as he claimed the last pear and leaned back, licking the sugar off of it while he watched Ray studying him.

When the pear was gone and Ray was still silent, Florian leaned forward and supplied a piece of the puzzle.

"Do you think Noir is the only one with a fondness for gems in all of Paris?" Florian leaned back again, idly toying with a bunch of grapes. "They're small, easily concealed and quite valuable - not to mention beautiful to look at." Florian shrugged. "More than one wife or mistress found her jewelry box a bit lighter after her dearly beloved invited me for a private evening. The first man gave me the jewels himself; after a while I learned to help myself if my host wasn't properly appreciative of my company."

"And no one questioned the missing jewelry?" Ray asked skeptically, wondering if the blond was an habitual liar or just prone to exaggeration.

"Which would you rather explain - missing jewels or an evening spent in the private company of an attractive young man? The infamous Noir made the choice quite easy - it even became something of a badge of honor to have been burgled by the Phantom Thief."

Ray knew this, of course, but was pleased to hear it nonetheless. He settled back in his seat and considered everything Florian had told him. For a moment he wondered how he had misjudged the circumstances so completely, but a tiny shadow in those amethyst eyes made him think he'd been right all along. No matter, either conclusion made him more determined to have Florian for himself.

Ray adored Azura and considered him his closest friend, but that didn't blind Ray to Azura's faults. He had vivid memories of the few times during his childhood when he'd managed to find something beautiful, and the way that Azura had first claimed and then ruined every one of those beautiful things.

That thought followed Ray for the rest of the evening, late into the night when Ray finally succumbed to fatigue, climbing into bed and half expecting Florian to follow. He was both relieved and disappointed when the man placed a chaste kiss on his forehead and left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Solomon Sugar was having one of those days - the kind where he questioned every aspect of his current existence - his apartment, his job, his clothing, even his decision to ignore his mother's advice and become a policeman instead of an accountant. By nine in the morning he knew it was going to be a very long day.

It had rained hard for three days and it was drizzling now. The ground was a slippery marsh of mud and ash with bits of rubble added to make footing unstable. The closer he got to the ruined structure, the more debris he had to pick his way through while trying not to fall - again.

The Rochefort mansion had burned months ago and anything salvageable was long gone, taken by people braver or more foolish than him. He was only here because of a rumor - another apparent dead-end in his investigation into the criminal activities of the notorious Black Hand.

The organization seemed to attract the most ruthless criminals - the kind that rarely left witnesses alive. Those with information about the Black Hand kept their secrets in fear for their lives and the lives of their loved ones. It made Solomon's self-appointed task of finding the leader of the Black Hand almost impossible.

Every time he decided he had had enough, the memory of his sister and her husband spurred him on again. He'd loved them both dearly, and he'd never forget the sight of their mutilated bodies.

The day after their murders, he'd resigned his post with the Paris police and taken on the title of private investigator. It paid poorly, but it gave him the time to pursue his investigation into the Black Hand.

It also allowed him the occasional brush with the phantom thief, Noir. The jewel thief had become something of an obsession for Solomon while he was with the police and he'd taken no end of teasing for his failure to actually catch Noir. Still, there was something elegant, almost artful about Noir's crimes and Solomon had begun to think of him as his "black cat".

Surprisingly, information about the Black Hand and, indirectly, about Noir had led him here, to the ruins of the Rochefort mansion. If the source was correct, something here would point the way to both.

He cast a glance upwards towards the gray sky and hoped the information he was seeking hadn't been washed away.

The cellar door had been forced and the ground around it had been well trampled – most likely by people carting off salvage. Solomon peered down into the gloom and sighed; he wasn't fond of cellars.

It took three attempts to light the lantern, but he was glad that he'd had the foresight to bring it along. He wanted to get this over with and spend some time pursuing his only currently paying case – the search for an old woman's missing cat.

He descended the slippery stairs carefully, listening for sounds of any remaining looters. It wouldn't do for them to think he was trying to stop them – more than one policeman had been injured that way.

Given the state of the cellar, it was clear that anything useful was long gone. Only bits of wood and a few broken bottles remained. He kicked one of the bottles aside and watched as it rolled towards a corner. He was about to begin his investigation in earnest when something in the corner caught the light.

He moved closer, still very aware of his surroundings – he didn't trust the integrity of this ruined structure and had no intention of staying in the cellar one moment longer than necessary.

His source had hinted that the mark would be in plain sight, but not obvious. The carved "R" set into a small stone in the corner of the foundation was exactly the kind of mark he would expect – something that most people would pass off as a bit of family pride.

With a surge of excitement, Solomon bent down to examine the stone. He prodded it experimentally, and then tried pulling on it. When that failed to produce results, he felt around the stone, then examined the area around it and the floor in front of it. Other than dirtying his hands, he accomplished nothing.

"Far too easy," he chastised himself, standing up and giving the stone a light kick for good measure. With a sigh he resumed his search of the cellar.

There was a series of rooms, some large, that appeared to run most of the length or width of the mansion. He searched those closest to the exit first hoping he'd be lucky and find his clue.

The storeroom yielded nothing, nor did the laundry room and what might have been a workroom judging by the few scattered, rusty nails.

It wasn't until he reached what must have been the wine cellar that he found another carved stone. This time, it was set over the doorway inside the room. Solomon reached up, ignoring the dirt and cobwebs and was rewarded when the stone shifted as he prodded it.

Searching eagerly, Solomon found a broken piece of wood – probably from one of the old wine racks – and wedged the narrow end in beside the carved stone. He set the lantern down for better leverage and almost tripped over it when the stone suddenly gave way.

Picking up the stone from where it had fallen, he examined it carefully and found an additional carving on the back – a date of 1423. It held no meaning for him, but the Rochefort family history was well documented – he should be able to uncover the meaning with a bit of research.

Pocketing the small stone, he lifted the lantern and studied the hole it had left. It was just a bit too high to reach so he dragged a few boards over and stepped up onto them cautiously, holding onto the doorframe for stability. Cringing a bit, he reached up into the hole and felt around. All thoughts of dirt and dead bugs fled when he felt something cold and metallic.

It was a well-worn key, heavy and ornate. Solomon slipped it into his pocket and checked the small opening once more before deciding that it had yielded all of its secrets. He jumped down off the boards feeling bolder for his success. He kicked the boards to scatter them and headed towards the exit, pausing just before he reached the stairs.

What if there were more stones?

He made a quick search of the rest of the cellar, moving as quickly as he could through the dark, dangerous space. His instincts were telling him that he'd found everything of importance, but he pressed on anyway.

In a small room too far from the cellar exit for comfort, he found one other item of interest. It was a book – ragged and damp, with some of its pages torn. Still, there was something about it that made Solomon curious. He tucked it into his coat pocket, wincing at the work he'd have to do to get the garment clean again.

Deciding that there was nothing else of interest, Solomon hurried back to the exit and climbed up and out into the rain. After the musty basement, he was glad for fresh air, even if it did carry the faint scent of ashes.

Before he left, he gave one long, last look at the remains of the once-fine mansion. He'd seen it many times when it was standing – a magnificent building for one of Paris' finest families. Solomon wasn't one for poetry, but there was something sadly poetic about the building and the family fallen to ruin.

Feeling a bit melancholy, Solomon left the grounds and started the long walk home. He was dirty and disheveled, but his thoughts turned to his one encounter with the young du Rochefort heir, Florian. The young man had gotten lost in a disreputable part of town and Solomon had escorted him to more familiar and safer streets. The young man had been extremely grateful and had insisted on treating Solomon to a late lunch.

To Solomon's relief, Florian had chosen a nice but inexpensive café rather than a more formal and expensive restaurant. The food had been excellent and the conversation light but engaging. It was only after they'd parted that Solomon realized he'd done most of the talking. It took him even longer to understand the manner he'd interpreted as polite distance was actually loneliness.

That night, dining alone in his apartment, Solomon had considered seeking the man out. Then he'd remembered his place, and Florian's, and knew he'd never be able to close the distance between them.

Drawing his thoughts back to the present, Solomon realized that he didn't even know where Florian was. He'd heard rumors that the young man had been taken on by a wealthy patron in exchange for payment of all the family debts. Solomon wasn't foolish enough to believe it was an alliance of goodwill – it was common knowledge that the aristocracy bartered children as easily as trade-goods.

His thoughts turned back to the ruins he had just left, and the woman who had perished inside, alone. Solomon hoped that - wherever Florian was now - fate would be kinder to him than it had been to Florian's mother.  
+++++

"Good morning, my friend. I trust you slept well."

Ray nodded his greeting in response and picked up a paper from the sideboard before taking a seat at the table. Azura knew better than to expect much conversation before Ray had had his breakfast.

A young woman with close-cropped hair wearing men's clothing served his breakfast. Judging from the remains on Azura's plate, he'd had the same – bacon, eggs and toast. It made Ray smile to think how, as orphans they'd breakfasted on scraps of bread while boasting of the magnificent breakfasts they'd eat every morning when they were rich adults. It was funny to realize that at least one of their fantasies had become real.

"Laila, tell Florian we're waiting for him to join us," Azura told the servant as she cleared away his plate and refilled his tea. She nodded once, and left immediately, leaving Ray and Azura alone for the moment.

"I've set up a workspace for you in the library. Florian will assist you in locating reference materials. If you need something I don't have, give him the details and I'll order it." Azura leaned back smiling broadly, the way he often had when they were causing mischief in the marketplace.

"I'll admit you've got me intrigued. Where did you find this text?" Ray pushed his empty place aside and leaned in close. "Or is that not a matter for discussion."

"A rare text containing a riddle that may lead to something of great value. Draw your own conclusions," Azura replied smoothly, but his eye was as bright as a mid-day sky and he couldn't quite tame his smile.

Florian arrived before Ray could frame a reply. The man was slightly out of breath and his robes were askew. He looked as if he'd just gotten out of bed.

"You're late." Azura said coldly, stopping the blond in his tracks. A flicker of fear passed across Florian's face before he smoothed his expression into one of polite apology. He bent his head and moved to Azura's side quickly.

"My apologies, Azura. And to you Monsieur Courland."

Azura gripped the man's wrist, squeezing hard. Florian remained still and silent, accepting the painful contact. When he was finally released, there were finger-marks visible on his pale skin.

"Ray needs a secretary. You will meet us in the library in ten minutes – properly groomed and attired. If you are quick you may have breakfast in the kitchen before you join us."

Florian nodded once to each of the men before leaving the room at a fast walk. Off to the side, the servant had returned to gather their dishes. She placed them on a cart and retreated through a set of doors at the far end of the long, narrow room.

Ray lifted the paper, taking a moment to consider what he'd just seen – the cruel way Azura had disciplined Florian, and the calm, almost resigned way the man had accepted it.

It reminded him of Florian's comment from the night before – that Azura wasn't the kindest patron he could have chosen, but he wasn't the cruelest either. That thought twisted Ray's insides; he understood all too well what Florian meant. Before Azura, Ray had faced a similar situation, but with even less choice than the penniless aristocrat. Ray had been a child, at the mercy of adults. Those were the memories that drove Ray, that never let him stop pushing himself to become smarter, richer, and more clever than those around him.

He'd had help, back then. Azura took him in – protected and taught him what he needed to know. Ray wondered if Florian had ever had someone offer that kind of help.

With this new incentive, Ray was more anxious than ever to get to work on solving Azura's riddle. He set the paper aside and stood, smiling.

"Excellent breakfast," he said pleasantly. "Just what I needed to get started. Shall we solve that riddle?"

"I believe we shall," Azura replied, and this time his smile was more predatory than pleasant.  
+++++

Florian was waiting patiently outside the library when they arrived. He'd changed into a well-cut three-piece suit and brushed his shoulder-length hair back out of his eyes.

He remained silent and unobtrusive as Azura gave Ray the tour of the large book-lined room. When Ray was settled at the desk Azura had set aside for him, Azura handed Florian a key and had him retrieve one copy of the rare text. The original and Azura's copy would remain properly stored and safe while Ray's copy would be brought out only when Ray was in the room and locked away before he left.

It was Florian's responsibility to ensure the safety of the copy and Azura had made it clear to him how severe the punishment would be if he failed.

"I must tend to business matters for a few hours, but I will join you for lunch, Ray." Azura moved closer and placed a hand on Ray's arm. He leaned in and added, "My staff is at your disposal. They will tend to your needs, so don't hesitate to use them." He glanced over at Florian who was still standing silently beside Ray's desk. "You can't work the entire time you're here."

"I'll remember." Ray played along, smiling as he glanced over at Florian too.

"Excellent," Azura said as he swept out of the room leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

"My apologies for keeping you up late last night." Ray offered sincerely as he took a seat and picked up the copy of the text. Florian remained in place, waiting until he was needed. He tilted his head slightly as he frowned.

"There's no need to apologize. I enjoyed your company."

"But I caused you to be late this morning."

"Not true, sir. After I left you, Azura spent some time reminding me of my duties while you are here. My past behavior has led him to believe that he must be thorough in his explanations. He feels that I benefit from occasional demonstrations."

That explained the man's stiff movements, Ray decided. He'd noted that Florian was moving with less grace than the previous evening, but he'd passed it off as a poor night's sleep.

"Well I won't get anything done without coffee. Would you ask one of the servants to bring some? Fruit and pastries would be welcome if there are any available."

"Of course, sir. If you would excuse me for a moment?"

Belatedly, Ray realized that Florian was waiting for permission to leave. Ray nodded distractedly, glad to get him out of the way while he settled in to work. He was used to being alone, especially when he was working, and his odd lot of servants did as they pleased most of the time. Having Florian hover was going to be a distraction unless he found something to keep the man occupied.

He left the desk and wandered the room, studying a book here and there as he went. In addition to the wide array of history and science texts, there was a small collection of music books. In one of the other rooms he'd seen a piano, but here, tucked away in the corner beside an armchair and a gold music stand, was a rather plain lap harp.

Ray hoped that his guess was correct and that the instrument was Florian's rather than Azura's. It would provide the man with a distraction and allow Ray to work without having someone looming over him.

Satisfied, Ray selected a few books that might prove useful and settled down at the desk again. He was thumbing through one of the volumes when Florian returned with the woman who'd served him breakfast. She was pushing a teacart loaded with carafes of coffee and tea as well as a pitcher of lemonade. In the center was a large tray piled with fruits and pastries.

"Thank you, Laila," Florian said softly once she'd parked the cart out of the way. She glanced at Ray, then placed a hand on Florian's bruised wrist.

"Use this ointment when you can," she whispered, handing him a small bottle, which he accepted gratefully. He touched her hand briefly then escorted her to the door, closing it behind her.

Without asking, he prepared a cup of coffee, black with one sugar, and set it on the desk, within easy reach, but far enough away that it wouldn't be accidentally spilled. Beside the cup on a small plate he placed several sweetbreads, a small bunch of grapes and several orange slices. On top he placed a sugared pear slice.

Ray smiled at the selection, looking up into those magnificent eyes. They were darker today, the color as subdued as the man. Ray much preferred the version who'd blithely stolen that onyx ring off of him last evening.

"There's a harp in the corner over here," Ray said casually. "Do you play?"

"I do," Florian answered neutrally before a hint of a smile slipped out and he added, "but that's the wrong question to ask."

"Oh?" Ray drew the word out into a tease.

"When speaking with an amateur musician, the question is always 'do you play well'?" Florian leaned forward slightly. "I confess to playing. It's up to you to determine if it's well."

"You do like a challenge," Ray countered, leaning back and meeting Florian's gaze full on. "Go on then, Mozart. Dazzle me."

"I apologize to your ears in advance." Florian deliberately circled in front of the desk on his way to the corner. He settled into the chair and took up the harp as if greeting an old friend. He plucked a few stings idly before settling into an off-key rendition of a familiar children's song.

When Ray simply shook his head and returned to his work, Florian ran a few scales and then launched into a slow, sweet melody. He played softly, head bowed over the instrument as he was absorbing the music into himself.

Ray watched for a few moments then let him go, returning his attention to the difficulty of identifying and translating the ancient riddle. It was nearly noon when he looked up again, surprised to have been so focused on the work, but even more surprised to realize that Florian had been playing his harp the entire time.  
+++++

Solomon settled onto his lumpy mattress with a sigh. He was bone weary from a day spent exploring cellars and climbing trees. The carved stone, old key, musty book and handful of coins he'd obtained hardly made up for the aches and pains he'd have in the morning.

The one bright spot had been the plate of cookies the old woman had given him when he'd returned her cat. The fact that she hadn't been able to pay his usual fee hardly mattered - or at least it wouldn't until he was eating watered down soup at the end of the month.

Still, the fact that his information had been correct and he'd found the rock and key in the Rochefort mansion ruins was a bit of good luck that he sorely needed. Perhaps the date carved on the stone would lead him to some forgotten family treasure in addition to giving him a lead on the Black Hand.

It was a fantasy, he admitted, but it was a nice one.

The same thought greeted him when he woke the next morning from a night of restful sleep. He got out of bed slowly, pleased to discover that he wasn't as sore as he thought he'd be.

He indulged in a bath anyway, using the excuse that he needed to plan his next steps. He'd need access to Rochefort family history to discover the importance of the date carved on the stone. That would provide him with some idea of where the key could be used. He also needed to examine the book he'd found - see if the remaining pages were readable.

Research wasn't his favorite pastime, but he'd gladly make the effort if it brought him closer to discovering the leader of the notorious Black Hand and their connection to the Rocheforts and possibly Noir.

Feeling refreshed and optimistic, Solomon left the bath and got dressed. He studied the musty book while he prepared a breakfast omelet. There weren't many pages remaining, and what was left was barely legible. Solomon struggled with it while he ate, finally conceding that there weren’t enough pages left to provide any useful information. Out of habit, he examined the covers, frowning in concentration when he realized that the back cover was thicker than the front.

Using the butter knife, he pried up the endplate and prodded at the extra bit of paper underneath.

He had to work carefully to extract the folded sheets without tearing them, but when they were free he was delighted to see that they were intact and had been protected from the worst damage by the fine leather cover.

The letter was old and the ink was faded but he was able to read enough to understand that it was an apology and a plea for forgiveness. The salutation was illegible and the signature was splotchy. There was a month and day, but no year, and the parts of the letter that could be read yielded no obvious clues.

Still, Solomon was certain the letter was important. He didn't believe in coincidences and the fact that he'd found it, the stone and key in the same place convinced him that they were all significant.

Carefully refolding the letter, Solomon was about to put it safely away in his desk when the design at the top finally registered. Taking out his prized magnifying glass, he leaned in and studied the small text inside a banner draped across the image. A moment later he leaned back and let out a delighted laugh. He'd solved one riddle without even leaving his apartment. The numbers on the letter matched the date carved into the rock, but the rest of the letterhead design spelled it out clearly - Loire.

He'd make arrangements today, and tomorrow he'd set off for a visit to the Rochefort ancestral castle in Loire.

Quite pleased with himself, Solomon set off for the market, intent on rewarding himself with a nice cut of meat and a reasonably priced bottle of wine for tonight's dinner.  
+++++

"What have you done to your fingers?" Azura grabbed Florian's wrist, almost causing the man to drop his soup spoon.

Florian quickly took the spoon with his other hand and set it down before allowing Azura to examine both hands. The fingers were red and sore from playing the harp for so long. It had been a while since he'd been allowed to play and he was out of practice.

"I've told you about this, Florian," Azura said coldly. The tone sent shivers up Ray's spine but Florian remained passive. "See Laila immediately and then tend to my correspondence before returning to the library at one.

Florian nodded once and immediately rose from his seat, intending to obey Azura's orders.

"Finish your meal, Florian," Ray instructed calmly. "There will be time enough for you to see Laila and take care of the letters after lunch."

Caught between conflicting orders, Florian remained standing. He looked at Azura, to his right at the head of the table, and then across to Ray. Both men were watching him, expecting him to do as he'd been told.

When the moment stretched out too long, Azura finally snapped out an order to sit and Florian quickly complied, pasting on a pleasant smile.

"Thank you," he told them both, quickly taking up his spoon again and bending his head to focus only on his meal.

After a protracted silence, Ray commented mildly, "I find that music helps me concentrate when researching."

"You've made progress?" Azura's earlier anger was gone in an instant, his face lit up with excitement and he leaned forward eagerly. "You were able to translate?"

"Not everything – it's an ancient dialect and the phrasing is curious. However, I believe I have the first line completed. Now that I know what I'm working with, I expect the rest of the translation to go much faster."

"I'll get you a real musician if that will help you concentrate, an ensemble even."

"That won't be necessary. Florian indulged me this morning and I abused his kindness. I would appreciate hearing him play again on another day, but we both need to concentrate on our work this afternoon."

"Of course," Azura sat back, considering. He took up the bell and rang for the servants to bring the next course before looking at Florian.

"You're to play when asked, even if it requires you to set your other duties aside temporarily. If you have free time, you may practice, but no more than thirty minutes a day. Laila will supply you with ointment to treat your hands. You will use it without fail as she instructs. Calluses are unacceptable."

"Thank you, Azura. I will see Laila immediately after lunch."

Dismissing the matter and the man entirely, Azura turned his attention to Ray and the two shared reminiscences and discussed current events until the meal was over. When the last plate was cleared, Azura waved Florian off without even looking at him.  
+++++

"You shouldn't let me take advantage of you," Ray told Florian as he examined the man's hands. The fingers were still red and sore looking, but they were better than they had been at lunch. Obviously Laila's ointment was helping.

"I'm afraid I was taking advantage of you," Florian countered with a smile, withdrawing his hands. "Azura rarely allows me to play."

"It is a bit unusual; most aristocrats I know favor the pianoforte."

"I learned that as a child, but then mother had to sell ours and there was no occasion to play. I found the harp in the attic among the family cast-offs. It was too worn and plain to be sold, so mother let me keep it. The music would soothe her when she had one of her headaches."

"You taught yourself to play?" Ray was impressed – his aunt had wanted him to learn the pianoforte when he'd gone to live with them in Paris, but he'd never had any real aptitude for it.

"I had help." Florian laughed. "One of our servants played. I'd help her with her work and then we'd sneak off and have a lesson. Sometimes she'd write down songs for me to learn, otherwise, I made up my own tunes." Florian leaned in a bit closer and smiled. "I can be very creative with my hands."

"Oh?" Ray leaned back and gave a smile of his own. "Prove it then. Find me everything this library holds on the history of Carthage."

"Done," Florian promised, heading off towards the shelves. He just laughed when Ray threatened to time him.  
+++++

"You did ask for everything," Florian reminded him forty-five minutes later when he added another three volumes to the pile of books on the floor. He'd already filled up the corners of the desk and a nearby chair and table.

"Then I change the request. Why don't you find a chair and help me search the chapters on Carthage. Note any references to their queen, a treasure or a sacred object."

Florian eyed the single volume Ray had already scanned and then looked at the piles he'd pulled from the shelves. He crossed to the far corner of the room and dragged the most comfortable chair of the lot towards the window where he'd have better light.

Ray watched him, considered, and then dragged his chair over to join him. Together they moved a heavy wooden table within reach and then settled down to read. When the late afternoon teacart was brought in, they were surrounded by stacks of books.  
+++++


	3. Chapter 3

Solomon dismounted the borrowed horse, leading him to a small group of trees and securing his reins so he was hidden from anyone traveling along the dirt lane. The ruins of the Rochefort ancestral castle stood a short distance away and he covered the distance briskly, scanning the area as he walked.

Unlike the foreboding remains of the mansion, these ruins gave off a sense of quiet melancholy. Brush and vines covered portions of the building, making it part of the landscape.

Hefting his lantern, Solomon walked along the building until he found an entrance. The heavy wooden door was closed but clear of growth and it opened with a hard pull.

Stepping inside, Solomon scanned the ground for debris and creatures before pulling the door closed behind him – he didn't want anyone to happen by and follow him inside.

Ahead was a narrow hall ending in a set of steps, which Solomon climbed cautiously, swiping away several sets of cobwebs. At the top of the stairs he went left, predicting that it would lead out of the narrow servant’s areas into the larger family rooms. He wanted a general sense of the building's layout, and finding the main reception areas would help.

He was somewhat distracted by the tattered tapestries and other remnants and didn't realize what he was hearing at first. Stopping abruptly, he scrambled to hide his light while he concentrated. Finally, when he was almost convinced he'd been imagining things, he heard footsteps again.

Shielding the light as well as he could, he hurried after the sound. Thankfully the only debris in this corridor was along the walls, adding to his suspicion that at least one other person was in this building, and perhaps had been here for a while.

Reaching a cross-corridor, he slowed and peered around the corner cautiously, catching a flash of movement as the other person entered a doorway at the far right.

Moving as fast as caution would allow, Solomon pursued them, crossing through what might have been the ballroom through a series of smaller rooms and finally reaching what appeared to be a dead end. There was no sign of the other person, and the only item in the room was a dingy portrait of a round-faced man wearing a powered wig. Solomon examined the portrait, wondering why anyone would want to be immortalized looking off to the side and smirking.

Maybe the maid was in the room, he muttered to himself, having read too many accounts of affairs between aristocrats and their servants. He considered the portrait again, stepping back and raising the lantern for a better look. He shifted to the left and then the right, following the man's gaze downward, noting that however he viewed the portrait, the man's gaze always fell on the same spot on the floor.

"It can't be that easy," Solomon was half-disgusted with himself for even considering it; these were exactly the kinds of ideas that had earned him the ridicule of his fellow police officers.

Still, there was no one else here, it couldn't hurt to try.

Setting down the lantern, Solomon felt along the walls and floor, looking for some kind of trigger to move the stone square that the man in the portrait seemed to be staring at. Finding nothing, he tried prying at the stone itself, but it was far too heavy to move.

Mind working furiously, he turned his attention to the portrait. There was nothing on the frame, but on the portrait itself, there was a small gemlike button on the man's shirt. Shifting the frame, Solomon searched the bit of wall that would be right under that button. Inside a tiny depression that could have been a crack, there was a small bit of stone that moved when pressed. Solomon prodded, applying more force until it gave a loud click and slid back easily.

The heavy stone square on the floor gave a louder click as it tilted, one side lifting up high enough that Solomon could pry it open to reveal a ladder underneath.

Giving himself up as a complete fool, he lowered himself cautiously down into the glow. It was filthy and filled with cobwebs, but he clenched his teeth and kept moving, testing each rung before he put his full weight on it. After what felt like hours, he finally reached the ground.

He was still wiping away the grime when he heard the distinctive sound of a pistol cocking. Lifting his hands in surrender, he turned to face his captor.

"You were declared dead," he told his captor, recognizing Madame du Rochefort even in the dim lighting.

"I'm afraid you've mistaken me for my brother's late, unlamented wife, Detective Sugar."

"You know me?"

"And I've been expecting you." She motioned with the gun towards a doorway on the left. "If you would."

"Of course. If you'll forgive my intrusion?" Solomon kept his hands up, still clutching the lantern as he walked steadily through the door, down a short hallway and into a larger, surprisingly well-appointed room.

"There's a washbasin if you'd care to freshen up. It's a bit primitive, but it will have to do."

Solomon was grateful for the chance to wash the grime from his face and hands. If he was going to have to face down an armed and supposedly deceased aristocratic grande dame, he preferred to be presentable.  
+++++

"You're sure the reference is to Carthage?"

"Certain. There's no mistaking that reference to the queen in the first line. And the last line mentions something of value beyond price. It's the meaning in the two middle lines that I haven't deduced." Ray leaned back against the pile of pillows and let out a stream of smoke. He hadn't had a cigar since lunch and he was savoring the familiar sensation. A short distance away, Azura was using a hookah to inhale something with a thick, sweet scent.

There were long comfortable silences as the men relaxed, enjoying the end of the day calm.

"It's been a long time since we've done this," Ray remarked, his mind full of memories of warm evenings spend lazing on rooftops or in hidden corners of the city. Fez was always a dangerous place, but the few hours after sunset, had always seemed a little calmer and a bit safer.

"Too long," Azura agreed, with perhaps a hint of wistfulness in his voice. He set the pipe aside and leaned forward, his eyes wide and pupils dark, making Ray wonder what exactly the other man was smoking. He was hardly a prude, but he valued his sense of control too much to give it up willingly. It surprised him that Azura was indulging so casually.

"You're safe here, Ray." Azura said as he picked up the pipe and held it out. Ray smiled, but refused.

"I’d rather not," he insisted. "I'll need my wits if I'm to solve that riddle."

"Relaxation is good for the thinking process. If you won't try this, perhaps I should offer you another diversion? Florian…"

"Perhaps later," Ray said quickly, stopping Azura before the man picked up the omnipresent bell. "I'm enjoying the time spent with you, my friend."

"We'll have plenty of time together," Azura assured him, giving him a leer. You're well on your way to earning your reward and I'll want to make sure that you receive it in full."

"I didn't come here for the reward." Ray could hear the edge of irritation in his own voice. When he'd received the invitation from Azura, he'd been lonely and bored. He thought this would be a pleasant visit with an old friend with a bit of mystery thrown in to make it more exciting. Now he felt like a guest being tolerated, who would be thrown a coin and sent out when he was no longer needed. 

"Of course you didn't." Azura's whole manner changed as he sank back against the cushions. "You're probably the only one who can say that truthfully my old friend."

The realization that Azura was as isolated as him made Ray's chest tighten. Who would have thought they'd have had more friends as orphans living on the streets than they'd have when they were rich and successful.

For a moment Ray was tempted to mention Florian, but he knew that for the lie it was; Florian wasn't Azura's friend. The man may have chosen to sell himself to Azura, but it didn't change the fact that he was a commodity.

Before he could get too maudlin, Azura got up and walked over to him, reaching down to put a hand on his arm.

"Come with me." It wasn't a request, and for a moment, Ray moved to follow. And then he realized where Azura was leading. The man had been indulging in an unknown, probably illicit substance - this was not the time to fall into bed with him.

Not that he wasn't tempted. In addition to being his closest friend, he and Azura had spent more than one night fumbling with each other in the dark. Ray was no innocent, but Azura had been the first person he'd wanted to be intimate with by choice. Things had never actually gone that far, but Ray still remembered the feel of their bodies pressed against each other. It had been the source of fantasy frequently over the years but now that the moment was here, it wasn't at all what he imagined.

"I will," Ray promised. "But not tonight." He wasn't sure how much else he should say - how he could explain what he wanted without being impolite or a prude. He was relieved when Azura stepped back, accepting his refusal without question."

"Good night, then. I'll see you in the morning at breakfast." Azura walked away, turning back just before he reached the door. "I'll send Florian to you when I've finished with him. If you don't want him, have him sleep on the floor."

Ray trailed him out of the room at a slower pace, heading for his own chamber. He made a concentrated effort not to think of the cost his refusal would have on Florian. He worked even harder not to think about Florian's arrival later that night.

If the fates were kind, he'd be asleep before that happened.  
+++++

Hours later, Ray lay stiffly on one side of the bed remembering that he didn't believe in the fates. Beside him, Florian was sleeping. The man was nude and had thrown off the covers. Ray was feeling warm himself, but he kept his nightclothes and the light blanket on, wishing it was a more effective shield against temptation.

Florian had arrived as promised nearly an hour ago. The lanterns kept burning outside to allow the servants to move around safely cast enough light into the room for Ray to see the pale cream of Florian's body and the shadows that hinted at bruises. It was no surprise that Azura marked his lovers, but seeing it was much different than imagining it.

"Climb in. You'll need sleep if you're going to help me in the library tomorrow." Ray took control of the situation immediately, moving to one side of the bed and holding up the blanket. He wanted Florian to understand that he wasn't expected to do anything but rest.

The man cast off his robe and climbed in without hesitation. He moved close to Ray, leaning in to kiss him, but Ray stopped him before they made contact.

"Sleep, Florian. You don't have to do anything more tonight." The man started to object but Ray stopped him. "Sleep."

When Florian hesitated, Ray reached up and drew him down gently for a kiss. He let go and just as gently pushed Florian away and down to the mattress. He could smell Azura on him, and his imagination started sending him unwanted images.

Florian was very still, watching Ray, confused and a little worried. He was afraid that Azura would think he disobeyed. Ray understood that but couldn't bring himself to use the man when he'd arrived straight from Azura's bed.

"I don't understand," Florian whispered after studying Ray for a long time. He hastened to add, "I'm not questioning you. It's just..."

"Sleep, Ray urged, placing a hand on Florian's shoulder. The contact seemed to be the reassurance Florian needed; a few minutes later he fell asleep.

Much later, with dawn approaching, Ray finally gave in and moved closer to his bedmate. He fit his body against Florian's and fell asleep almost instantly.

When he woke, hours later, he was on his back and Florian was curled against his side. Azura was leaning against the doorway, watching them, an unreadable expression on his face.  
+++++

It occurred to Solomon that sitting in the ruins of a castle being served tea by a dead woman was not what he had had planned for the day. The tea was excellent, however, sweetened precisely to his taste and served in an antique china cup that was probably worth more than the combined value of everything he owned.

His time with the Paris police certainly hadn't prepared him for this. It had, however, drilled him until asking the necessary questions was second nature. It was working surprisingly well, all things considered. Madame Rochefort wasn't a bit reticent in answering. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying his attention. Solomon supposed that being presumed dead would make one rather lonely.

"Biscuit?" Madame offered a selection arrayed artfully on a platter, interrupting Solomon's rambling thoughts. He selected a shortbread and tasted it, finding it much better than the ones he got from the shop near the booksellers.

"How did you come to suspect your brother was involved with the Black Hand?" he asked, continuing the line of questions that had been delayed by the tea.

"It started small - missing ornaments and household items, Then it was larger items; pieces from rooms that weren't used very often or heirlooms that had been in storage suddenly vanished. It's no secret that I've had to sell some family possessions, but far more were missing than I had sold."

Madame Rochefort paused a moment to sip her tea and nibble on a biscuit. She set them aside, unfinished, and returned to her story.

"Maurice had trouble with gambling in the past, and I assumed that was the reason for the missing items. I had a terrible shock the day I went to his home to confront him and learned that it was a far more serious problem.

"I never cared for his wife, you understand. She was a common thing who put on airs, pretending to be a proper aristocrat just because she'd married one. Brother was blinded by her lies and it led to his ruin.

"Imagine finding yourself face to face with a group of ruffians - criminals even, in my brother's own home. And she was laughing with them - consorting I might add. And poor Maurice at her side, ensnared by her evil.

"She lured him in. I knew it as soon as saw that band of ruffians. Maurice had been gambling again, and losing heavily. But she'd gotten him mixed up with the worst sort and he owed them a king's ransom. They said they'd let him work it off by using his connections - they had him stealing. My brother! Stealing! The things he took from me were trivial compared to the deeds and contracts he was forced to take from others."

"That wasn't the worst of it. No, the worst was using my own brother to get to Florian. He thought to spare me, the dear boy. He always had too big a heart. He made an arrangement with a rich man in exchange for payment of the family debts. He didn't know that Maurice and that man had a deal. He wanted Florian and used Maurice to get him.

"I knew nothing of this until it was too late. Maurice and his devil of a wife came to my house just a few days after Florian had gone. They were demanding the famous Rochefort diamond. Said the man had tried to force the information from Florian but my dear boy kept telling him the diamond was gone.

"That's when I knew what had to be done. I'd lost Florian, and Maurice was beyond saving. I insisted they have tea while we discussed the diamond but I didn't get the dosage right and it took a long time for the poison to take effect. You can imagine how difficult it was to keep talking normally while waiting for someone to die.

"When it was finally over, I went through the house and packed what I needed. The servants took care of the trunks in the morning and after I gave the staff the day off, I spent the time preparing for my supposed death. I waited until nightfall to start the fire then used Maurice's car to get away.

"More tea?" Madame offered pleasantly as she concluded her story. She took up her own cup and drank the rest before finishing the biscuit.

Solomon looked down at his nearly empty teacup and declined the offer for more, mind reeling at the tale he'd just been told.

"Your brother's wife's body was found after the fire. What happened to Maurice?" Solomon steeled himself for the answer, sure he wouldn't like it.

"Don't worry, Detective. I've taken care of him." The smile Madame gave him wasn't a bit reassuring.  
+++++

"Look!" Florian thumped the book down in front of Ray and leaned in to point out a specific passage. Ray read it over, considered and read it again before looking up, grinning.

"That has to be it," Florian insisted. "A sacred place set apart – a temple outside the city."

"And 'above yet below' could mean that the treasure is hidden under a temple on a hilltop." Ray prompted, enjoying the way Florian's eyes lit up as he worked to solve the riddle. 

"Or even…" Florian shifted a few books, finding the one he wanted on the bottom of the pile. Opening it to display a large map of Carthage, he ran his finger along the line marking the coast. "Did the riddle mean the treasure was hidden under a structure along the coast – above the sea yet below the ground? Aren't there ruins?"

"There are," Ray confirmed. And the structures probably fit the time frame we're working with. A treasure this important would be hidden very carefully – somewhere that would be around for a long time." Ray placed his hand over Florian's on the book. "Sacred doesn't always mean holy. It could also refer to a palace or place honoring earthly leaders."

"A palace then." Florian frowned, his focus going distant for a moment before he asked, "Don't palaces usually have chapels?"

"Or something similar, depending on the prevailing religion. And if it was inside of a palace, it wouldn't be easily accessible." Ray leaned back, pleased with their progress in solving the riddle. Since adopting the guise of Noir, Ray had had many occasions to puzzle out challenges – people didn't leave their jewelry lying about after all – but this was the most fun he'd had in quite a while. Florian didn't have the formal education that Ray and Azura had, but he knew enough to be helpful and offered a different, sometimes unconventional perspective.

They were so involved in their research that they forgot lunch entirely. It wasn't until Azura stormed into the room, furious at being kept waiting that they remembered the time.

Florian leapt up from his perch on the edge of the desk and hurried towards Azura, hoping to calm him before he took his anger out on Ray. Before he realized what was happening, Azura had his ever present whip in hand and lashed out at him, catching Florian's bruised wrist and using the contact to drag him closer.

"It's not his fault!" Ray shouted, standing so quickly he almost upset his chair. He took a step forward but was stopped by the look in Azura's eye. For the first time in his life, Ray was afraid of Azura. The feeling passed in an instant, leaving a cold resolve in its place. "Let him go."

"This is my home. My property." Azura tugged the whip to make it clear he was asserting his ownership of Florian. His voice was low and dangerous. "Do not presume to give me orders."

The moment stretched out between them, Florian trapped, helpless, in the middle. Finally Ray nodded once and stepped back. He turned back to the desk without another word and began to close and stack the books he'd been using. When he was done, he picked up his notes and carried them to Azura.

"The translation of your riddle and our notes. My thanks for your hospitality. I'll gather my belongings and see myself out." Ray handed the papers to Azura and then turned to Florian. "Your help was invaluable. I hope we meet again someday." With a nod, he moved past the two men and left the room.

Moving at a rapid but respectable pace, he returned to his room and started packing, wondering if his risky gamble would pay off. He didn't like leaving Florian that way, but he wasn't about to directly challenge Azura's authority. He was counting on the importance of the riddle to bring Azura to his senses.

He was nearly finished packing when the door opened and Azura entered, alone. He was calmer, at least, but no less dangerous.

"You've been working too hard, my friend. You need to rest and have something to eat. Tonight we'll go out."

Ray knew he should refuse – that he should leave while he could. But he never could leave a riddle unsolved. And he didn't want to abandon Florian, especially not now.

"I'd enjoy that." Ray set the suitcase down as a form of surrender. He caught the flash of a victory smile on Azura's face before it settled into a more friendly grin.

"It's my fault for neglecting you. I had some unexpected business matters to attend to. Now that they're settled, I'll be able to assist you myself and you won't have Florian as a distraction."

As he talked, Azura directed Ray towards the dining room where a meal was still waiting for them. Laila was there quickly removing the third place setting.

"Florian won't be joining us?" Ray knew it was foolish to ask, but did it anyway.

"He has other matters to attend to for the rest of the day. You may see him tonight if you'd like, but he won't be able to stay with you as he did last night."

"We'll see." Ray made the comment as noncommittal as he could, not wanting to give Azura any more reason to direct his anger at Florian. He was apparently fine with sharing Florian's body, but clearly resented sharing Florian's company. After spending some time with Florian, Ray could understand why. Meanwhile, he would do his best to divert Azura's attention, although he suspected the blond had already been punished.

A faint sound reminded Ray of Laila's presence. He had seen Florian speaking to her on several occasions and had the impression that they were friendly. She might be able to tell him about Florian's condition if he could find the opportunity to speak to her alone. 

Feeling a bit more settled now that he had a plan of action, Ray proceeded to enjoy his lunch.  
+++++


	4. Chapter 4

"Watch your head." Madame cautioned as she passed through a low doorway. Solomon ducked just in time but ended up with more cobwebs in his hair. By now he was covered in grime and had given up all pretense at worrying about it. Madame du Rochefort was the one who'd offered to reveal the Rochefort family secret - she could certainly tolerate a little dirt.

After she'd admitted to poisoning her brother and his wife, Madame had calmly spent the next half-hour making conversation - asking about his time on the police force, his job as a private detective and even his family.

She'd excused herself to freshen up and had cleared away the remnants of the tea before asking him if he wanted to know the secret of the Rocheforts. With her son Florian bartered to a foreign businessman, the ancient noble line was ending. She herself would be leaving Paris soon, going to stay with friends in a remote castle in England. She didn't intend to return, or to let anyone else know that she was still alive.

"It's better for Florian this way," she'd insisted, her expression placid. Solomon thought the casual dismissal of her only child was even worse than the cold way in which she'd recounted murdering two people.

But then she'd smiled and told him about the man who had taken her son. John Romwell, Junior was a name Solomon had heard several times, usually in association with large business deals. He'd also heard rumors that the man had dealings with the Black Hand, the group responsible for the death of Solomon's sister. If he could learn anything about this Romwell from Madame Rochefort, it would be worth an afternoon of discomfort.

"Follow me then, and mind your step. This place is full of debris but it has its share of traps as well. The Rochefort family line didn't survive for centuries by being fools.

She took up a lantern and motioned for Solomon to pick his up as well. She led him through a door at the far end of the sitting room and down a series of corridors. They passed through nearly a dozen rooms before they reached the smaller, more cramped servant's areas. From there their movements were slower and more cautious.

"Hold this a moment please," Madame asked as she stopped near the left-hand wall midway down a corridor. She handed him her lantern and put her hands against the wall, feeling along until she let out a pleased hum and a section of stonework gave way with a click.

Blinking at the appearance of a hidden door, Solomon returned her lantern and followed along as she proceeded along the passageway. There were twists and turns in a seemingly endless maze with hints of rooms strewn with castoffs and ruined masonry. Another hidden door led them along several stairways as they descended down much farther than Solomon was comfortable with. 

At last they reached one last, hidden door. Madame had already asked Solomon if he'd brought along the key he'd found in the Rochefort mansion ruins. When he admitted that he had, she smiled and promised that he'd have a chance to use it. He did so now, struggling a little with the rusty lock. A bit of extra force and it opened, letting them into a featureless room.

"There are only two people alive who have seen what I'm about to show you - myself and my son. Upon my husband's passing, I assumed responsibility for guarding this secret until Florian came of age. But now, with circumstances as they are, it falls to me to free him and put this to rest at last."

Madame's eyes glittered strangely in the lantern light and Solomon wondered once again if her madness was new, or an affliction she had suffered with for a long time. He was beginning to suspect it was an old complaint.

"I'm showing you this for a reason, Solomon Sugar. As a detective, you help those who have been wronged. I want to hire you to help my son."

"Madame..."

"Just promise me you will consider it. Once you enter this last chamber, you will understand why I make this request."

"I promise to consider your request, my lady. Nothing more."

"Accepted." Madame handed him the lantern again and repeated the process of pressing hidden latches to open yet another secret chamber, but this time the process took longer and appeared to be much more complicated.

At last there was a resounding thud and the door opened. Madame took back her lantern and entered. Solomon followed much more slowly, taking in his surroundings.

The room was no larger than his living room with what appeared to be a large column in the center. Around it were several chests, open to reveal jewel-encrusted swords, jewelry and other treasures.

He was so distracted by the glittering riches that it took him a moment to register the other two items in the room - one was a magnificent diamond as large as his fist set into a carved column. The other was the corpse of a man - most likely the recently deceased brother of Madame du Rochefort.

"You've heard of the Rochefort diamond?" Madame asked, stepping around her brother's body as if it wasn't there. She stopped beside the column and looked up at the diamond that was set into the carving of what Solomon suspected to be a goddess from an ancient religion.

"The diamond has been in the family for centuries. The truth of its origin faded into myth over time as have the details of its curse. Only the true Rochefort heirs were permitted to know the truth and we were encouraged to help perpetuate the myths to divert attention.

"The truth is that the diamond was part of the bridal jewelry for a Sultan's daughter who was promised to a Rochefort ancestor. It was a political alliance, as many marriages were - the bride and groom barely knew each other.

"A week before the marriage, the woman was attacked and killed by traitors in the groom’s own family, right here in this castle. The groom had the poor woman buried in her wedding gown, but removed all of the jewels for fear that they would attract grave robbers. Most of the jewels were kept in the vault but over time some became part of the family jewels and were eventually sold off.

"But this diamond was unique. It had been said that it had special properties, although there's no clear record of what they were supposed to be. The family records refer to it only as the Queen's Flame.

"To preserve the murdered woman's memory, the groom ordered that this column be prepared and the diamond placed within it. To ensure that no traitor or thief would ever violate that memory by stealing the diamond, he added a curse - both real and legendary.

“The legend kept most people away - fearful of angry spirits and cursed gems. The real curse was a poison hidden behind the diamond - one that is released if the diamond is even partially removed from its place.

"As more treasures were added to this room, another safety feature was added to ensure no one who was not a true Rochefort could remove anything from this room and live to enjoy his spoils. There are a series of hidden levers that must be pressed in the proper order to enter this room, and another set that must be used before leaving. If either one is not done correctly, the destruct is activated, and this room and the surrounding corridors are all destroyed. Given the state of this place, it's quite likely that activating the destruct would bring the whole castle down.

"I was tempted to activate it deliberately, but I think now I'll wait. There's one more betrayal that must be avenged in this room. And you," she turned to Solomon, her expression fierce. "You must help me in my final duty in preserving the Rochefort family honor."

She reached down into one of the five chests and withdrew a double handful of rare and beautiful treasures.

"These are yours as a down payment. You will receive one tenth of the treasure here when you bring Florian home safely. If you can also arrange for this John Romwell Junior to accompany him and manage to bring him here so that I can repay him for betraying my son, you will receive double the reward - one fifth of the treasure."

"Why?" Solomon asked, and then realized it was one of the least important questions. But still, he wanted to understand. "You said this treasure was here for safe keeping, that it wasn't to be spent. Why are you giving it to me? And why didn't you use some of it to pay off your debts?"

"As the head of the Rochefort family, I was responsible to preserve these treasures. But now, our family line, and family duty has ended with the betrayal of my son. It is my personal duty to avenge my Florian's honor. I've made my decisions, and accept the consequences, but Florian is young and deserves a chance to live free of these ancient obligations. Better that it ends with me, than have him forced to cling to a way of life that has become little more than an illusion."

Looking into her eyes, Solomon caught a glimpse of the burden this woman bore and realized that, if indeed she was mad, it was love and honor that had driven her there.

"I accept your request," Solomon told her solemnly. "I will bring Florian home to you. I cannot promise more than that."

Madame merely nodded.  
+++++

The room was too quiet. Ray turned another page in the book he was skimming and stared at it for a moment. With a sigh, he closed it and shoved it aside with the others he'd already read.

Behind him and to the right, Azura was seated at his desk writing. He'd been sitting there all morning, tending to business matters. Occasionally he'd ring the bell and a servant would come in, receive a set of terse instructions and then leave again.

There was a page of scribbles and crossed out notes at Ray's right hand. He picked up a pen and added another random note, knowing it didn't mean anything. The copy of the translated riddle lay to his left, untouched.

He hadn't seen or asked about Florian, nor had he had the opportunity to speak to Laila in private. As a result, his imagination was running wild, creating a series of increasingly brutal scenarios. It certainly didn't help that he could feel Azura watching his every move.

Determined to get back to work, Ray rose and headed for the bookcase where most of the books he'd been using were stored. Florian had used a book yesterday that had been helpful; perhaps it would provide more clues.

He tried several familiar volumes, before discovering the one he wanted. Florian had been careful to re-shelve them all, but he'd left small markers in the most useful ones. It made finding them again much easier – especially now that Ray was working alone.

Paging through the book, he turned to carry it back to the desk only to be stopped by Azura. Ray wondered how he could have been so distracted that he hadn't heard the man approaching.

"You're still upset," Azura said, taking the book and setting it aside. He placed a hand on Ray's face, caressing it lightly. "You take things too seriously, my friend. Everything and everyone has their place. It is our duty to remind those who have forgotten that. There would be chaos if we didn't."

In theory, Ray agreed. But only a few years ago, they had been in a position even more tenuous than Florian's. It was only happenstance or good fortune that had elevated him and Azura and not others. Even Florian, who had been born into a world of privilege, was not immune. There was no guarantee that the wealth and position Ray and Azura enjoyed now would last forever.

The position he held now, as a rich and powerful man, brought responsibilities Ray had never even considered. And it was his obligation to fulfill those responsibilities in a way that benefited the greater good.

Even when he, in his guise as Noir, stole jewels – it was only from those who could afford the loss. And a portion of the resulting profit was faithfully donated to charities to help those in need.

"A gentle reminder is more effective than a whip."

"Only for those who are willing." Azura slid his hand down to Ray's neck and leaned in closer. "Some who need reminding are too willful for soft words. They need something harsher to help them understand." Pressing his lips against Ray's ear, Azura added, "Florian is mine until you earn him. If you defy me, I will remind you both of your place."

Shifting back, Azura trailed his hand down the front of Ray's robe, sliding it inside the fabric until he reached skin. His other arm wrapped around Ray's waist, holding him still. Azura pressed his lips against Ray's in a kiss of possession, not passion.

Ray knew he should push away, that he could, and should, stop this before it spun out of his control. But he remembered this scent, this warmth, even the feel of Azura's hair dancing across his skin and couldn't find the will to refuse it.

He had lost his whole world when he'd been taken away to Paris. Gone were the lazy afternoons drowsing in out of the way places, with the drone of the marketplace as background music. There were no more nights spent piled together, laughing and joking with the other orphans that Azura had taken under his protection. Gone were the late nights spent in Azura's arms, stealing precious moments of tenderness while the others slept around them.

His aunt and uncle had loved him, Ray didn't doubt that. But they had never really understood him. At first they showered him with toys and trinkets that were too young for a boy who'd lost his parents at a young age and had been forced to survive by his wits. They made every effort to introduce him to others his own age, taking him to parties, the theater and hosting afternoon social events.

He'd done his best at first to please them, enduring the tutors and the social events that he hated just to make them happy. But after one too many nights feeling like a bug under a microscope, he'd had enough. His shouting had shocked his uncle and driven his aunt to tears more than once, but finally they found a compromise.

It hadn't been perfect, but Ray had understood that they had his best interests at heart. He was also smart enough to know that the education and opportunities they could provide would give him a measure of safety he'd never achieve without them.

Once he'd reached that decision, his studies and the social events were much easier. He never formed any close friendships, but he did have a small group of peers that he was comfortable with.

It was a little easier in college, although his determination to excel did isolate him from many of the students. Still, there were several that he socialized or studied with. He'd even shared a drunken fumble with a couple of them, but it had never gone any farther. He still corresponded with a few, but hadn't seen them since graduation.

Azura tightened his hold, bringing Ray's thoughts back to the present. After everything that had happened in the last few days, he was sure this was a bad idea. And yet… he desperately needed more than a physical release – he could get that in any brothel. What he needed was this warmth, this closeness, even if it was more about possession than passion.

Paris society was a rigid and structured thing; full of arcane rules and artificial standards of proper behavior. Touching was kept to a minimum, even when dancing, and disapproving eyes were everywhere. Even innocent private encounters were likely to become the subject of rumors and gossip.

"So needy," Azura said as he directed Ray the short distance to a lounge chair. It was strewn with books, which he swept off carelessly before pressing Ray back. "No wonder the boy couldn't please you."

The mention of Florian sent a chill through Ray, causing him to stiffen. He turned his head away from another of Azura's kisses and put his hand on Azura's shoulder.

"This isn't right."

"It's closer than the bedroom," Azura replied with a smile.

"Wait," Ray insisted, pulling away. When he had Azura's attention he quickly added. "I haven't solved the riddle."

"The secret has been kept for centuries. It can wait another few hours." Azura was half amused, half irritated, and Ray knew he had to proceed carefully.

"We're not…" he trailed off as Azura pulled back, face twisting.

"What, Ray? Not lovers?" Azura spat the work out like it was poison. "No, we're not. Are you expecting flowers and candy perhaps? Do you want me to treat you like a virgin?"

"I want you to treat me like a friend!" Ray shoved the man aside and got up as quickly as he could. He practically collided with the desk before he caught himself and spun around, furious.

"We were friends, once. We took care of each other. You sacrificed your eye to save my life. I thought you were the one person I could trust, no matter what, but now you act like I'm little better than a servant. Thankfully I'm not because I've seen how you treat them!"

"I treat you the way you deserve when you come into my house and take advantage of my generosity." Azura rose and moved in on Ray, who moved back before Azura could trap him against the desk.

"I've done nothing of the sort. It was you who sent Florian to my bed."

"To be used, not coddled. Do you know how much work it took to break him?"

"Not enough, apparently. He's no more broken than you are. He chose you, Azura. He allows you to use him."

In the midst of the anger Azura suddenly started to laugh.

"Is that what you believe? Oh, Ray. Still as naïve as ever." Azura stepped forward and caught Ray's hand. Azura's tone was softer, almost gentle. "You were always a dreamer. The others learned, they gave up their childish belief in fairy tales. You never did. Sometimes I even envied you for it."

"Leave that for now." Ray waved off the painful sting of Azura's words, and his laughter, concentrating instead on what he'd said about Florian. "What's this about Florian?"

"Do you really believe I would offer to pay off the Rochefort family debts for no reason?" Azura leaned against the desk, a sign that the anger of moments before had gone to be replaced by his usual manner.

"He said he chose you out of all the men who offered."

"And he did. But he was strongly influenced by his Uncle Maurice. Maurice was happy to persuade the boy on my behalf in return for certain considerations. His sister had thwarted his attempts to find the Rochefort diamond for years and he was sure that the boy was more… persuadable."

"I thought that the Rochefort diamond was gone?"

"Which is what they wanted everyone to believe. But Maurice discovered the truth years ago when he saw some old family documents while helping his sister make arrangements for her husband's funeral."

"So the only reason you wanted Florian was for the diamond?"

"You've seen him. I never object to sharing my bed with someone pretty. It was only after I tried to persuade him to give me the diamond that I learned how stubborn he can be."

Ray considered everything he'd heard and became more determined than ever to solve Azura's riddle and win Florian. He still wasn't ready to give up on his friend, but he didn't believe that anything he said would change Azura's opinion of Florian.

"He was very helpful in researching your riddle." Ray drew the sentence out, trying to sound uncertain. He'd have to be very careful how he proceeded from now on - he couldn't continue to show too much interest in the man.

"He's in no state to help you today. Come to my room tonight and we'll discuss the possibility of his assisting you tomorrow." With one last kiss Azura swept out of the room, making it clear that he was claiming a victory.

Ray turned back to his desk mind full of riddles that had nothing to do with treasure.  
+++++

Laila rinsed the cloth in warm water and continued to clean Florian's back. The fair skin was a mess of new and old lash marks. Dark bruises littered his arms, sides and hips. There were probably more on his legs, but she didn't ask to see and he didn't offer. His wrists had been bound with harp strings, which she'd had to saw off with a kitchen knife.

"I think I made him mad." Florian tried to make it a joke, but he was lethargic after drinking Laila's healing draught and the words came out slurred.

"Won't be the last time," she replied sadly. She owed Florian more than she could ever repay. The man had saved her a few months ago when she'd been running for her life from slavers. He'd been new to Morocco and had gotten lost on the way back from the marketplace when she'd run into him, literally. He'd pretended she was one of Azura's servants to chase off her would-be captors, and together they'd managed to find their way to Azura's mansion.

After making sure she was clean and well fed, he'd gone to Azura and asked him to employ her. It wasn't until later that she began to wonder what he'd had to do to convince Azura to let her stay.

Since then she'd had occasion to repay his kindness in small measure by treating his frequent injuries. This wasn't the worst she'd seen, but it was bad enough.

"Sleep," she urged as she finished treating him and gathered up her supplies. Standing at the bedside, she looked down at him for a moment and made a decision. Azura's deal with the visitor was common knowledge among the servants. She would do everything she could to make sure that the deal went through, even though it meant parting ways with the man she considered to be her friend.  
+++++

The kitchen was busy with dinner preparations and Laila was glad for the confusion. It gave her the opportunity to slip away for a moment to the library where she knew the visitor, Count Courland, was working alone.

Carrying a tray with a pitcher of freshly made lemonade, she knocked lightly on the door and entered without waiting to be invited. Courland was sitting at the desk reading a thick book and didn't seem to notice her presence at first. It gave Laila a moment to confirm that he was alone.

"Forgive the intrusion, sir," she said as she set the tray down on a chair – the table was strewn with books. "Would you like some lemonade?"

"I've already had tea," Ray said absently, not looking up.

"It's freshly made, sir. Good for a hot day spent indoors."

This caught Ray's attention and he looked up, pleased to see Laila and a bit annoyed at himself for not noticing her earlier.

"Thank you. I am thirsty." He waited for her to approach, noting that she seemed to be moving with deliberate slowness as she set down the glass and poured the liquid.

"Have you seen Florian?" he asked quietly, not wanting to chance being overheard. "Is he well?"

"He's resting, sir." She said it in a way that left no doubt of his state of well-being. "May I speak?"

"Please, I was hoping to enlist your help in aiding Florian."

"You have it. I've treated and bound his wounds, but he needs time to heal. And he needs to leave this place."

"I agree," Ray said fervently. "But that's not possible until I solve this riddle."

"Then let me help you," Laila insisted. "I heard you discussing it with Florian yesterday. You were talking about Carthage."

"What do you know of it?" Ray asked, worried that Azura might be angry with a servant having heard about the riddle.

"I was born there, sir."

Ray stared at her for a moment before breaking into a smile. He turned and shoved aside several books until he got to one that was splayed open to reveal a map spread across two pages.

"Can you read?" he asked as he pointed to the map.

"Yes, sir," Laila replied, moving closer to see what he was pointing to. She quickly scanned the image and then the text underneath. She stopped abruptly, looking up in shock. "You're looking for the Queen's Quartet."

"What?"

"The Queen's Quartet. You know - the legend of the four treasures?"

"I've never heard of it," Ray said, shaking his head. He motioned for her to take the desk chair, deciding that this might take a while. He was going to get as much information from her as he could. He gestured for her to continue as he pulled over another chair.

Laila perched uncomfortably on the edge of the fine leather chair, knowing that if Azura saw her there he wouldn't be pleased. But Azura's guest, Count Courland did want her to sit there. Refusing his request would be an insult to Azura's guest.

She looked down at the map, feeling a strong sense of loneliness. She missed her family and her friends and the familiar sights and smells of her home. It had been months, but it felt like years since she'd been there.

"Please make yourself comfortable, Laila, is it?" When she nodded he offered her a smile. "I need your help, Laila. I must solve a riddle for your master. The riddle will point the way to a treasure. If I can help him find that treasure, Florian will be released from this household. I believe you are Florian's friend. If you are, I'm sure you would want to help free him."

"Would you be willing to free me as well?" she asked, knowing that this would be the best opportunity to leave Azura's household and return to Carthage. She wasn't actually a slave, but she owed a debt to Azura for taking her in and providing for her. When she left this house, she wanted it to be a clean break with no fear of reprisal.

"I will do what I can. You have my word." Ray said the words in a way that let her know how serious he was. Laila already believed he was a man of honor, despite the rumors that he was a jewel thief - she understood that the concepts of legal and right could be very different.

"Thank you, sir. You have my word that I will assist you in any way I can. And that I will do what I can to aid Florian." She tapped a particular item on the map.

"This temple is at the heart of the Legend of the Queen's Quartet. If your quest is for any or all of those items, it must begin here."

"I've never heard this legend. How do you know it tells of the same treasure as the riddle?"

"There is only one treasure in Carthage that would lend itself to ancient riddles. May I ask if you are certain of the reference to that ancient city?"

Ray hesitated for a moment, considering before he located the copy of the riddle under a couple of books. He scanned it as a reminder before handing it to her to read. The copy was marked with notes, arrows and scribbles indicating his attempts at translation. At the bottom, written in Florian's neat hand, was the completed translation.

Laila studied the text, frowning and tapping her fingers. After several long minutes she looked up.

"It's definitely The Queen's Quartet - the use of the phrase 'flow of life blood' confirms it." She watched as the man measured her words, comparing them to the riddle and finally deciding to believe her.

She used the time to weigh the full burden of her obligation to this man. How much of herself did she need to give him in exchange for her freedom? The memory of Florian, cruelly beaten and in pain, trying to comfort her tipped the scales. If this man could help Florian, she'd gladly trade a few of her secrets.

"Telling the story of the Queen's Quartet is a tradition in my family. Perhaps it is not as common now, but my people tend to cling to our traditions. It is a long and complicated story, made longer by songs and verse. The part you need to know is near the end." Laila cast up a silent apology to her foremothers for ignoring their teachings. She had been taught since she was a small child, the importance of this story - how it must always be told in full and exactly as it had been learned. She'd never had the occasion to tell the story before now, and her first time would be an intentional break with those teachings.

"Certain events that occurred saddened the Queen and she spent three full days locked in her private chambers speaking only with her closest advisors. When she emerged at midnight on the third day, she declared that the four artifacts that had helped to make her kingdom peaceful and prosperous must be scattered across Carthage. Each artifact was to have a hiding place in direct contrast to its purpose, weakening the power of the artifact. In addition, four wagonloads of treasure were to be hidden with each of the artifacts so that if their hiding place was discovered, the true importance of the object would still be concealed.

"The treasures were scattered and hidden as ordered, but one of the Queen's advisors did not trust the Queen's chosen method of remembering the locations of the artifacts. He crafted four riddles and concealed them from all but his assistant who managed to secretly copy two of them before being discovered. The assistant was executed, but no one knew if he had passed along the two riddles, and no amount of effort produced a confession from any of the assistant's associates.

"Years passed and one of the treasures was discovered. The men charged with safeguarding were unable to find the thieves or any sign of the treasure. More men were charged with safeguarding the other treasures, but the number of guards had to be small - a select group, each member hand chosen by the queen for their unfailing loyalty and trustworthiness.

"The three remaining treasures stayed hidden until the year after the Queen's death. The new ruler knew nothing of the artifacts until the guards reported that a second treasure had been taken.

"The new ruler wanted the artifacts brought back, but those who had been charged with safeguarding them refused to honor the request and went into hiding. Some say that they found new hiding places. Some say that they found a way to harness the powers of the artifacts to help protect them. No one knows for sure. But," she tapped the map again. "Your riddle says to start here. The only way to discover if the treasure you seek is still in place is to follow the clues and see the truth of it for yourself."

"You don't know which of the artifacts this riddle points to?"

"It's not clear." Laila chose her words carefully.

"You can at least tell me what the four artifacts are?" Ray was completely caught up in the excitement and mystery of the treasure, temporarily setting aside his concern for anything else.

"They are the Queen's Flame, Queen's Rose, Queen's Breath and Queen's Tears." She sat back, watching and wondering if he would understand the significance of the names. She could tell the moment that realization struck - his eyes lit up.

"The four Elements! Fire, earth, wind and water - basic elements. The names are likely to be a reflection of the artifact's power or purpose too." He leapt to his feet. "Laila, you've done it. You've provided the answers we need to find the treasure. We'll need to find some way to tell Florian - to encourage him not to despair."

"I'll tell him when I tend his wounds." Laila stood up, suddenly realizing how long she had been away from her duties. She'd be in for a scolding or worse from the cook.

"If I may be excused, sir." She picked up the tray with the pitcher of lemonade and the glass before turning to leave. Ray was behind her, gathering books. He looked distracted, but he called to her as she walked away.

"If anyone gives you trouble - tell them I asked for your assistance and they can take it up with me if they object."

"Thank you, Count Courland," Laila replied, leaving the room with a small smile on her face.  
+++++

"Well done, Ray!" Azura lifted his wine glass in a toast to his friend's good news. "Tomorrow I'll make arrangements for our journey to Carthage."

"We'll need to take the servant girl along. She was born there and knows the land. She also knows the legend of the artifacts."

"I had heard a bit of it once myself, but I had forgotten it. I'm only interested in one of the artifacts anyway, the one she called the Queen's Tears."

"Do you know what it is? Laila only said that they were artifacts that may possess special properties."

"You mean they're magic." Azura laughed delightedly and drained his wine glass. "That's just more of your fairy stories, Ray."

"Truths are often hidden in those stories," Ray countered lightly. He wasn't looking for an argument, but he didn't want to back down too easily. "They simply assign mystical powers to things they don't comprehend."

"This is true," Azura conceded with a tone of voice that made it clear he was dropping the subject only because he wanted it to end, not because he agreed.

"Let's turn our attention to other matters for now. Are you still planning on joining me in my chambers after dinner?"

"If the invitation still stands," Ray tossed the reply off lightly, but he was dreading the thought of seeing Florian in his current state. He was even more afraid of what Azura had planned for them.

"But of course. After dinner you will change into something more comfortable and join me in my rooms." Satisfied that the matter was settled, Azura continued eating.

Helping himself to the wine bottle, Ray topped off his cup and then Azura's making small talk about a book he'd read on his way to Morocco. It was obvious that Azura was only half listening, but Ray kept talking.

When the meal was over, Ray excused himself to change and freshen up. He delayed as long as he could but finally gave in and joined Azura..

He wasn't at all pleased to see a half-naked Florian draped over Azura's knees obediently taking in the heavy, sweet smoke from the water pipe Azura was holding to his lips. Florian's eyes were dilated and he moved in a slow disconnected way that indicated he'd been smoking that substance for a while."

"Try some?" Azura asked, taking the pipe from Florian and offering it to Ray.

"No thank you. I prefer my cigars." He'd just had one in his room, but now he took another one out of his case and lit it, inhaling slowly and steadily. The familiar smell was a comfort, especially since he was beginning to feel a bit fuzzy from the smoke from Azura's pipe. He fought hard against the instinct to pull Florian away from the pipe and from Azura .

"Sit, Ray. You look like you're about to faint. Opium smoke can have that effect on people the first few times they encounter it." Come sit down beside me and I'll give you a taste." As Azura talked, he shared the pipe with Florian, who tried weakly to refuse, but ended up being forced to smoke it.

"I think he's had enough. I wouldn't want him to fall asleep and miss the rest of the evening's activities." Ray sat down on the chair opposite Azura and tried not to look too interested in Florian – the man was limp and barely moving. His eyes were huge, dark and glassy, staring at Ray as if he had never met him.

"Florian's had it before. It helps loosen him up and dulls his pain. You'll appreciate my efforts later when he's servicing you."

"I'm sure," Ray responded, clenching his teeth so hard he almost bit his cigar in two.  
+++++


	5. Chapter 5

Solomon Sugar was exhausted. He dropped into the narrow bed ready to sleep, thankful that the bed wasn't too lumpy. Twenty minutes later he was still staring at the ceiling.

It had been an exhausting day. The horse ride and the hike through the castle would have been enough to tire him out. But the unexpected discovery of Madame Rochefort and everything she had told him had worn him out as well.

So why wasn't he asleep?

He thought of Madame Rochefort's insistence on showing him the shortcut back to this horse. And then realizing that it was too late to ride all the way back to Paris before nightfall.

He'd been lucky to find an inn that had room to stable his horse for the night. The supper had been excellent, the prices were reasonable, and the pub hadn't been too noisy, allowing him time to think.

Apparently he had thought too much as his brain seemed to be caught spinning at high speed; unable to turn off and let him rest. 

It had occurred to him many times throughout the day that Madame might be completely unhinged - she was partway there at least. If she really did murder her brother and his wife, she would need to answer for her crimes. On the other hand, the wife's body had been burned in Madame's place and apparently no one was missing Maurice or his wife.

Regardless, he had promised to try and help Florian and that was what he intended to do as soon as he found a way to discretely convert the items Madame had given him into money.

It would have to be done very carefully, Solomon realized, or else he would end up facing the police and not be able to answer their questions.

His mind continued to spin, throwing up one idea or worry only to have it shifted aside in favor of others. He considered getting dressed and going downstairs to the pub and getting just drunk enough to sleep, but eventually decided against that option; he didn't want to face tomorrow with a hangover on top of everything else.

Having concluded that at least, he turned onto his side and stared at the wall until exhaustion - or boredom - finally let him sleep.  
+++++

Laila selected a jar from the motley collection on the shelf and placed it on the counter with two others and a chipped mortar and pestle. She needed to make more of her healing ointment for Florian, but she also wanted to stock up on her other herbal remedies while she could. If she was to accompany her master to Carthage, and hopefully be freed to remain there, she wouldn't have the time or supplies to make anything for a while.

The room was stuffy and carried an overpowering mixture of scents, but she found it comforting. When she first entered Azura's service, she had had to mix her potions in secret, but once again Florian had interceded on her behalf. She'd used the last bit of the healing ointment she had been carrying when she was abducted in treating him and he had promised to repay her by gaining permission for her to make more.

It had been a comfort for her over the months that she'd been here and it had proven beneficial. As she used her ointments and salves to help other servants she gained their trust if not exactly their friendship in return.

She wasn't miserable here - the other servants were nice enough and no one mistreated her, but she longed for days idling along the water's edge or spent among the wilds outside the city. It was there that she'd been captured, distracted by idle fantasies until the men were too close for her to get away.

She hadn't gone easily - a fact that soothed her a little in the days when she was crammed into the dark hold of a ship with others and later when she was locked in a too cramped wagon for transport overland to the marketplace in Morocco.

It was only the grace of the Goddess that had allowed her to escape - that and determination not to become another woman vanished into the brothels. She had no desire to live a short life of cruelty and abuse until she was no longer pleasing enough to be bought, when she would be cast out or killed.

She'd lost friends that way and a cousin who no one spoke of any longer. She didn't want her name to vanish from her family's memories as her cousin’s had done.

Laila had been fortunate and she reminded herself of that fact every day as she greeted the sun with her morning rituals. She kept to her family's ways, although she did it in secret for fear of drawing too much attention from the other servants or her master.

It was a calculated risk to help her Azura and Count Courland now - taken just as much for the chance at freedom as a way to repay her debt to Florian. Otherwise, she would have waited and bided her time until she was able to flee this country and return to Carthage.

She knew that her duties at home would have been carried out by others in her absence, but it still felt like a failure of her sacred vows.

She atoned as well as she was able in this place, burning incense in the far corner of the garden under the light of the new moon and reciting the sacred words of the Goddess at dawn and dusk.

She had managed to keep her body untouched, but knew she would have to submit to the purification rituals when she returned home before she could reclaim her place and her duties. Meanwhile, she did her best with the monthly rites and used the specially prepared herbal water to cleanse herself.

She'd done what she could, but she would be relieved when she was back in her own country with her own family. She thought of her mother, saddened but resigned that memories of her no longer drove a spike of pain through Laila's heart - time, and perhaps distance, had helped dull that loss to an ache. Laila lost her father too early to remember him, and her sister had died in infancy. But the rest of her family clan had raised her as one of their own and she never lacked for love and affection.

She'd told Florian a little about her family and learned a little of his life in return. It was hard for her to imagine the cold, lonely life he must have led with such a small family and the rest of his clan so distant. She hadn't understood at all when he'd tried to explain the rituals and customs he observed - all things that seemed designed to isolate people and repress their emotions.

Florian had tried to explain, but there had been such sadness in his eyes that she'd deliberately steered the conversation towards her family and had finally made him laugh by telling him about her clumsy younger cousin, his fondness for berries and an unfortunate encounter with a basket of freshly-washed linens - they never did get the berry stains out and everyone had had to sleep on purple-splotched sheets.

In return, Florian had offered up his own childhood tale of chasing after a kitten and having to be rescued from a tree. He'd seemed younger than his twenty years, his eyes bright with mirth and pale cheeks flushed pink. She'd fallen just a little in love with him that day - not as a lover, but as a brother she wanted to cherish and safeguard.

And that was what convinced her to give up one more of her secrets to the man she hoped would save him - the man whose eyes told her that he had fallen a little in love with Florian himself - Count Ray Courland.  
+++++

Solomon groaned as he dismounted the horse. He straightened up slowly and wondered if he'd ever walk right again - he felt like he'd gone bow-legged. His friend just laughed at him and took the reins, earning a half-hearted glare from Solomon.

"City boy," Pierre teased as he led the horse into the grooming area and removed his saddle.

Solomon hobbled after him, helping to tend the animal who had carried him so many miles. He really was grateful to the beast, and made a note to bring her apples the next time he visited. 

"Paris born and bred and proud of it. I'm not a displaced bumpkin like yourself."

Pierre snorted and shook his head. "That's your best, Solly? You must be worn out. I did warn you it would be a hard trip. I'm glad you at least had the sense to stay over somewhere instead of trying to do it all in one day."

"I didn't have much choice - there were some unexpected delays."

"Still working on that understatement are you? When you say something like that I picture mass chaos. Help me stable the old girl and I'll let you tell me about it. There's whiskey in the deal."

"Sold." Solomon helped his friend get the horse secured and made sure there was food and water for her before following Pierre into his house. They were on the outskirts of Paris in what had once been a large farm. Pierre had to sell off some of the land, but he still had a respectable piece of property and a variety of livestock. They'd been in school together and while Solomon went off to become a policeman, Pierre had stayed behind and taken over the farm when his father fell ill and died at a young age.

Solomon hoped his friend would never leave this place - the farm had become something of a sanctuary, especially when Solomon had been temporarily suspended from the police force for failing to solve a high profile crime. It hadn't been his failure alone, but he had been made to take the fall to cover for his supervisor's incompetence. The matter still stung, especially when Solomon, in his new role as private investigator - had occasion to cross paths with one of his old colleagues.

True, he was happier - if much poorer now and he had friends he could always depend on, like Pierre. That thought carried him into the house where he accepted his friend's offer of the chance to clean away the travel dirt. He also used the time to make a decision.

Hefting the sack that contained the remnants of the lunch he'd packed the day before along with a light blanket wrapped around a large handful of priceless treasure, he ventured into Pierre's kitchen, downed the whiskey he'd been given and told his friend the story.

Much later, as they huddled over the treasure, all the windows locked and shades drawn, Solomon was glad he'd taken his friend into his confidence. Pierre had a wide circle of friends including a trusted family friend who appraised jewelry and other valuables. A brief phone call was made, and not only did Solomon have a possible way to convert his treasure into much needed cash, he had an appointment for the man to come see the items at Pierre's that very evening.

Feeling a bit of relief for the first time since he'd encountered Madame Rochefort in that ruined castle, Solomon accepted his friend's offer of a bed and a nap. He was asleep within ten minutes of lying down.  
+++++

Florian moaned and leaned back against Azura, pressing his forehead to Azura's neck. He was sitting in Azura's lap, his robe open and his arms and legs splayed while Azura's hands danced across his sensitive skin. Across from them on a sofa was Ray, his emerald green eyes dark with lust as he watched Florian writhe.

Everything was sensation - the teasing caress of Azura's hands, the silk of his robe, the steady throb of Azura's pulse. All rational thoughts had been banished - replaced by this overwhelming influx of sensation.

"He won't last another minute," Ray was saying his voice light but there was a challenge in the words. Azura just laughed.

"He'll last until I allow him his release. I can torment him all night if I choose."

"In his state? The opium took any control he might have had."

"His control has nothing to do with it. He doesn't do anything unless I allow it. Care to learn a few things, Ray?"

"I would love to. But you can't hurt him. Anyone can inflict pain; I want to see how you can give him pleasure while he's in that state and yet control it well enough that he doesn't come until you want him to."

As much as he disliked the thought of Azura tormenting Florian that way, Ray couldn't resist this opportunity. He wanted to watch the slender blond writhe in pleasure, and this might be his only chance to see it. It would also delay any plans Azura had for using the man more harshly; Ray had been sickened by the angry wounds covering that pale body.

"Any more rules?" Azura asked with a smirk. He slid his right hand up Florian's chest and tweaked a nipple hard, savoring the shudder that traveled the length of that supple body. He was the most responsive lover Azura had had in a long time and Azura would probably miss that when he finally gave Florian to Ray. Still, the boy could be wearisome with his petty acts of rebellion. It was much easier to bed someone who did as they were told and didn't want to talk everything to death.

It had been a stroke of luck that one of Florian's charity cases had turned out to be even more useful than expected. If the servant girl could lead then to the treasure, Azura might even let her go. But he'd decide that once she'd proven herself.

For now, all he wanted to do was torment the man in his lap and, by extension, the man across from them watching like a starving man staring at a buffet.

Barely able to suppress a laugh at Ray's expression, Azura took one of Florian's hands and guided it down until the boy was stroking himself. Oh yes. Sometimes it was even more satisfying to toy with someone's mind than it was to use their body. With Ray and Florian’s obvious desire for each other, he might just be able to play with both of them at the same time.  
+++++

"You're certain?" Solomon asked again, half collapsing into a chair with shock. Pierre pressed a glass of brandy into his hand and Solomon drank even though he hated the stuff.

"As I said, Monsieur Sugar, this is a rough estimate. But I can assure you, the value of your items is enough to make you a very rich man - richer than most of the aristocrats in Paris." Monsieur Campion, the appraiser was discreet enough not to ask where Solomon has acquired such treasures, but he was practically vibrating with curiosity. Surely these were the holdings of an ancient family - perhaps Solomon was the illegitimate child of royalty and had been given the items on the quiet in return for his silence and discretion. Campion had heard that story often enough. Sadly, from the man's reaction, he'd have to let his curiosity remain unsatisfied. He would, however, be handsomely compensated with his commission - more than enough to offset his curiosity.

"You can make the arrangements?" Pierre asked. "Without drawing attention to this matter?"

"Relax, sirs. This is not an uncommon occurrence. No one will know who the seller is. It may take a few days for the initial payment. We use that as a guarantee and then the balance will be sent to whatever bank you designate once the items are sold."

"Will the initial payment be enough to get me to Morocco and back?"

"Sir, you could travel the world twice over with that amount. And spend the rest of your life doing so once you receive the balance."

"Thank you, no. I suspect that this one trip will be sufficient. I'm fulfilling a promise, nothing more. But it is a matter of some urgency.”

"Then I will deliver the initial amount to you in the morning so you may begin your journey."

"Don't rush off," Pierre chided his friend, inviting Campion to join them for dinner. The man agreed, mostly because he wanted to learn more about this unremarkable man who happened to have a fortune in ancient treasure and an obligation to travel to Morocco at the soonest opportunity. The fact that Pierre had an excellent cook and a well-stocked wine cellar was a bonus.

"I'd be delighted," Campion replied, setting his coat aside and taking up his glass so Pierre could refill it. He took a seat at the table across from Solomon and raised his glass.

"To new acquaintances and old," he toasted, taking a drink while Pierre muttered that there was nothing "old" about him.  
+++++

Florian lay between them on the sofa, exhausted. His eyes were barely open and he was trembling with aftershocks. To his right, Azura was sipping a glass of brandy, his head tilted back to enjoy the burn as the liquid flowed down his throat.

To his left, Ray was licking the sugar off a slice of pear, one hand resting lightly on Florian's leg.

It was comfortably warm in the room but Florian was shivering as his sweat-soaked, over sensitized body cooled and calmed. He wanted desperately to crawl into bed, pull the covers up around him and sleep for days but he didn't have the energy to move.

He was grateful at least that he hadn't been used any harder than he had - something he had Ray to thank for. He hadn't been beaten, he hadn't even been penetrated - but he had been teased and pleasurably tormented until he had no reason left. He'd begged and pleaded and finally cried for release before Azura had ordered him to finish himself off while he and Ray watched.

He hoped the two men had lost interest in him for the rest of the night. As much as he didn't want to witness the two men together, it was preferable to having either or both use him.

The opium was wearing off and all of the aches and pains were making themselves known. He wouldn't be able to put on more ointment or take one of Laila's pain-relieving draughts until he was alone, which probably wouldn't be until morning. Until then he'd just have to remain as quiet and still as he could and hope that they let him rest.  
+++++

"I'm going to bed," Azura announced after he drained his glass and set it aside. He stood up, looking back at Ray and Florian. "The boy can stay here for the night but you're welcome to share the bed or return to your own."

"I'll return to my own room," Ray decided, standing and stretching a bit. "If you've no need for Florian, he can come with me."

"He's useless when he's like that," Azura cautioned.

"I won't need him to do anything too complicated," Ray replied casually. “If that's acceptable?"

"Fine," Azura waved him away. "I've no use for him in that condition and I don't think you'll get much pleasure from it either, but you're welcome to have him." Ray helped Florian to his feet, pulling the robe around him and tying it closed. He gave Azura a nod and wished him good night before turning to go. They'd only gone three steps when Azura stopped them.

"I won't be joining you for breakfast tomorrow. I have business to attend to most of the day. I'll expect to see you at supper."

"Until then," Ray nodded and left the room with a half-conscious Florian steered along at his side.  
+++++

The bed was the nicest thing he had ever seen. As soon as they entered Ray's room, Florian lurched towards it, desperate to lie down. Ray stopped him just an arm's length away.

"Sleep," Florian whimpered, reaching.

"Bath," Ray countered. "You'll sleep better if you're clean."

Florian whimpered again but Ray ignored it and towed the other man into the bathroom. Setting him down on the toilet seat to wait, he ran a bath and added scented oil he found in a jar on a shelf over the tub.

The smell was nice and the thought of warm water and clean skin was finally enough to rouse Florian from his half-asleep state. He cast off the robe and climbed into the water when Ray said it was ready. It was only when Ray tossed off his robe and took up a face cloth and some soap that Florian understood what was going to happen.

"I can wash myself," he said, concerned that Ray would think less of him for his weaknesses.

"So can I. Another thing we have in common, Now let me do this before you fall asleep in the tub and I have to haul you out of there." Ray soaped up the cloth and started running it over Florian's body, taking special care around his wounds. They weren't as bad as he'd feared, but they were bad enough, especially the ones on his wrists. Laila would treat them again in the morning but all Ray could do tonight was clean and wrap them.

Florian was lying back in the water, eyes closed and his face paler than usual with exhaustion. Ray looked at him for a moment then made the decision and started gently washing Florian's privates. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen and touched them in the past few hours, but it was different in this setting. He tried to think of it strictly as tending to the wounded and was glad that he made it through without a fuss - although he did wish his erection - and Florian's - would go away quickly.

Finally he was finished bathing Florian - even his hair - and he helped him up and dried him off. At Florian's request, he put the man to bed unclothed and on his stomach. Ray climbed in beside him, worn out and just wanting to sleep. After firmly shoving all conscious thoughts aside, Ray drifted into a deep sleep that lasted well after dawn.  
+++++


	6. Chapter 6

"More?" Pierre asked, offering the platter of eggs, sausage and mushrooms. It had been loaded when they started and after eating their fill they had barely made a dent.

"I can't eat another bite." Solomon insisted, wiping his mouth on his napkin and laying it aside to indicate that he was full. He hadn't eaten that much in weeks but Pierre's cook was excellent and he'd allowed himself to indulge. Considering he'd be leaving for Morocco soon he thought he might as well enjoy good food while he had the chance.

"I could go with you if you'd like," Pierre offered, knowing that his friend's thoughts were on his upcoming voyage.

"It would be a pleasure to have your companionship, Pierre, but I don't know how long I'll be gone. I've got to find Florian first, and then I have to convince the man who bought him to give him up. I don't think it will be a matter of offering to return his money."

"You're right, of course, but I don't like the idea of you doing this alone."

"I'll send you a telegram when I arrive in Morocco and another when I have Florian. If I run into trouble, I'll let you know. Your friend Monsieur Campion said that he has acquaintances in Italy with associates in Morocco. If I run into trouble perhaps you could ask him to assist." Normally Solomon wouldn't make such a request - he was used to looking out for himself and he was usually very cautious but it couldn't hurt to have some contingency plans in place should something go wrong and Solomon needed an ally in a foreign land.

"Right, then. I suppose that's the best we can settle on. I still don't like it Solly, but you make your own decisions. And in this, I think you're doing the right thing in getting the lad out of there. That Romwell fellow is a bad sort from what I've heard - into all kinds of funny business. He can't want the lad for anything good."

"No, Solomon agreed, speaking carefully. "Nothing good." He lifted his coffee cup and sipped the comfortingly hot beverage while thinking of Madame Rochefort's only son, sold to a man of questionable morals, believing his mother was dead and that he was without friends in a country far from home.

Solomon looked over at Pierre, making faces at whatever he was reading in the newspaper and chewing on the end of his pipe. He was grateful beyond words for his friends in general and this one in particular. Even if chewing on pipe stems was a habit that drove Solomon crazy.  
+++++

"I've brought your breakfast," Laila told Ray quietly as she pushed the cart into the room and set out plates and cups and silverware. She moved swiftly but didn't make any unnecessary noise as Florian was still asleep. The man was curled against Ray, one arm draped across Ray's chest and his head tucked against Ray's shoulder. Ray had an arm around his shoulder holding him close. Both men were naked, but Ray had heard Laila approaching and had draped a blanket over their lower halves.

When Laila was finished setting out the breakfast, she brought over the jar of ointment and sat down on the bed beside Florian. Very gently she began to treat his wounds.

"Uuunn?" Florian said sleepily, shifting away from the cold ointment towards the heat of Ray's body. He settled in again and closed his eyes, a small smile on his face.

"Not a morning person?" Ray asked Laila. She shook her head, no, and kept working. After a moment Florian shifted again and mumbled. This time Ray decided it was time to wake the other man up. He could sleep again later if he needed to. He picked up the cup of coffee Laila had placed on the nightstand and held it close to Florian's nose. The blond made a face, but his eyes opened.

"Morning," Ray said with exaggerated cheer - he wasn't much of a morning person either.

"Morning," Florian mumbled, sniffling as he tried to roll onto his back only to be stopped by Ray and Laila. "What?" and then he realized what that coldness was on his back. "Oh. Thank you Laila," he said politely.

"You're welcome. Sit up now so I can wrap these and then I need to see your wrists." He complied, careful to keep his lower half covered as he moved, but leaving Ray to scramble for his own share of the blankets.

"Thanks," Ray muttered, wrapping up in a blanket before sliding out of bed. Taking his coffee along, he settled in at the table and loaded his plate while he watched Laila finish treating and binding Florian's wounds. Some of them did look a little better today - her healing ointment seemed to be working. He'd have to ask her to give him some before they parted ways - Noir was prone to small scrapes and bruises.

"Thank you, Laila," Florian said softly as she finished treating him. He gave her a warm smile and touched her hand. "I'm sorry to take so much of your time. I know you have other duties."

"Don't worry about my duties. You can give me less work by not aggravating your master." It was risky teasing Florian like this - she'd gotten it wrong a few times before and he'd gone quiet and melancholy. She hadn't been able to bring him out of it once, and Azura had shown his displeasure by making the man bleed. He hadn't blamed her, but she'd felt responsible for the pain he'd suffered and she'd worked very hard to help him recover both his health and his good humor. Thankfully, Count Courland seemed to be helping - the two men were certainly taken with each other. It pleased her to see that they were so comfortable in each other's presence and that the Count seemed willing and able to offer comfort to the other man.

"I'll try my best not to aggravate Azura, but I make no such promises for you," Florian bantered back, clearly in a good mood after waking up in Ray's arms, even if he was embarrassed at being half-naked in her presence.

"It's part of my job, aggravating you. Now go eat and let me get to my other duties. I'll be back for the tray in an hour. If you need me beforehand, use the bell." She smiled at the face Florian made at her - they both knew only Azura and occasionally his guests were allowed to use the bells to summon servants.

She took her ointment and left, catching a glimpse of Florian standing up draped only in a sheet as she went. It was a nice view, but she preferred the one she'd gotten of Count Courland.  
+++++

Madame Rochefort greeted her friend warmly, taking in the pleasant view of the gardens through the open patio doors. She'd appealed to her dear friend for a place to stay in private while she recovered from the shock of the fire and separation from her son. She'd known Eloise all her life, a distant relative who'd had her own share of traumas and understood the need to be discreet and occasionally secretive.

Helene du Rochefort was grateful for the time to rest and think and to catch up with Eloise. She'd be leaving France soon enough - for good - and was glad to have this visit, especially if it was to be their last.

She noted that the food wasn't done quite as well as her cook would have prepared it, but it was acceptable and she was hungry. The tea was more appreciated for it's lovely aroma and warmth. She over-sweetened it, needing the energy for the day ahead.

"You look rested," Eloise said, taking a sip of her own tea. She'd eaten breakfast already, not knowing if Helene would be up to joining her after arriving so late the previous evening. She'd been shocked when she'd read about the fire destroying the Rochefort mansion, but she hadn't really believed that her friend was dead. When she'd received the telegram - hand delivered - she knew that there was more at work than a case of mistaken identity.

There was more to the story than Helene had told her - she understood that. She'd had a few scrapes in her own past that she'd never fully explained to anyone. But Helene had always been there for her and she was glad to repay a little of that kindness now. She didn't press for answers, or bring up painful subjects. She couldn't stand forced conversation when talk wasn't necessary at all, so she sat, and sipped her tea and waited for more of the story to unfold, trusting that whatever it was that had brought her friend to her doorstep would be revealed in time.

Eloise only had one wish in the matter, but she kept it to herself for now. She wanted to offer whatever encouragement or enticement she could to convince Helene to find her beloved son Florian and to bring the boy home.

Eloise had never had children of her own - not that lived anyway - and Helene had been gracious enough to share her precious child. They'd summered together when the boy was young, after his father had passed away, and she'd taken charge of him more than once. He was a sensitive and headstrong creature - much like his mother, and much like Eloise herself.

And so, while she sipped her tea and waited, Eloise began to plan.  
+++++

"Take a drink," Ray ordered pushing Florian's coffee cup closer while thumping Florian on the back. The man was coughing, trying to clear his throat after inhaling some of his beverage.

"What set that off?" Ray demanded when Florian had settled again, wiping his eyes and reaching for his coffee again with an unsteady hand.

They were discussing the new information Laila had provided about the Queen's treasures and their connection to the riddle Ray had been trying to solve. He'd reached the part about the treasures themselves, reeling off the names by memory when Florian had let out a small gasp and started choking.

"The Queen's Flame," Florian replied weakly. "You believe that's one of the legendary treasures?"

"According to Laila it is. Have you heard of it?"

"Not the others, no. But the Queen's Flame – I know of a jewel with that name. Did Laila give you a description of it?" Florian was calmer now and there was something of an air of resolve about him that Ray found curious. If he hadn't heard of the Flame, how would Florian know of it? Unless…

"The Rochefort diamond!" Ray practically threw himself at Florian gripping the man's arms as he demanded an answer. "Did your family hold the Queen's Flame?"

Florian went so pale that Ray expected him to pass out, but he regained control of himself. Shaking off Ray's hold, he pushed back his chair and rose, pacing a short distance off and then finally returning. He reclaimed his seat, sitting rigidly, his manner formal and remote.

"As the last son of the Rochefort line it falls to me to protect the family." He faltered for a moment adding, "Despite what my mother may believe." He regained his composure and continued. "At eighteen, when I claimed my title, I received a book and a letter from the family solicitor. It was required that I read them both in his office and return them to his safekeeping when I had finished. They contained information about family history and detailed my responsibilities as the Duke du Rochefort."

"You're a Duke?" Ray hadn't really thought of the other man's position. In fact he couldn't remember ever hearing it before now.

"I am. Was. Perhaps I still am." He brushed it off easily, but Ray wondered how much that casual dismissal of something that was so central to most aristocrats cost the man. "It's of little importance now that I've no family or home, nor even my own freedom." Florian leaned closer, gripping Ray's arm urgently. "What is important is the history I learned about the family's legendary diamond. It divulges no secrets to tell you that at one time the Rochefort family did hold such a gem and it was called the Queen's Flame."

"Does the family still hold this diamond?" Ray asked urgently, wondering if Florian would admit it even if they did. But then he remembered that the family had been so far in debt he'd sold himself to a man who abused him – would he have sacrificed his freedom to save a family treasure?

"The Queen's Flame is a cursed gem – one that brings unhappiness and death. It was taken at great cost and forced an alliance that never should have been made. My ancestors bled and died for it, and anyone who touched it afterward came to harm. My grandfather, many times removed lost his bride because of it and in his grief he ordered it hidden away in a place where no one – family or thief – would ever lay hands on it and live to possess it or profit by it.

"I was marked by it at birth," Florian said bitterly, "and sold my freedom for it – to a man who values it more than my life." He raised his hand to stop Ray's comment before adding. "And that is the last complaint you will hear from me about the matter. I know the blame I carry in this by choosing Azura over the others – Hobson's choice though it may have been."

"I'm not making a judgment," Ray assured him. "Is there anything else you can tell me about the diamond? What it looked like – if there are any other stories about it? Anything might help."

"It was a large diamond – almost the size of a man's fist from what I've read. It was almost round with many tiny facets so that it shone brightly even in dim light. I don't know more than that." 

"What about your ancestors – surely there were stories passed down or written down in the family records."

"If there was anything, I never knew of it. It would be of no use now anyway – the house and what was left inside is nothing more than ashes." Florian's tone had changed as had his manner – he seemed weary beyond measure but he listened patiently while Ray asked another question.

"You said that the possession of the diamond forced an alliance that should never have been made. Who was that alliance with? And why should it not have been made?" Ray knew he should stop, that he should respect Florian's effort to uphold his family's secrets, but he also wanted to help Florian understand that protecting himself was more important than preserving secrets for people who were long dead.

"Even the Rochefort family has some members who were motivated by money or power more than family honor or loyalty." Florian sat back and crossed his arms, making it clear he wouldn't say any more about the matter.

There was more Ray wanted to ask but he recognized the signs of stubbornness in the man's jaw and the way his eyes had gone hard. He'd get nothing more by pushing now and might even ruin his chances to return to the subject in the future. Better to let it go. He rested his hand on Florian's arm for a moment then rose and went to the wardrobe where he located his flask. He handed it to Florian without a word.

"I've just had breakfast," Florian said, a hint of a smile breaking through. He took the flask anyway and downed a healthy swallow before returning it. He shook his head at the burn.

"Never hurts to be early," Ray replied before taking a drink too. He set the flask on the table between them, an open invitation for Florian to help himself. He took out his cigar case and offered it to Florian – who refused – before taking one for himself and lighting it. He inhaled deeply and held the smoke for a long moment before blowing it out again.

Florian watched and shuddered, turning his head away, remembering the night before and the disconnected helplessness he always felt when Azura made him smoke. He'd never taken up the habit by choice and now he didn't think he ever would.

"Come with me," Ray stood abruptly, cigar clenched in his teeth and his eyes alight with mischief. "We're going out."

"What? Out where?" Florian spluttered. Without realizing it he cast a nervous glance around the room.

"We're going to look up an old friend." Ray patted his pocket, checking for his wallet. "If you're good I'll buy you something in the market."

Florian made a face at the taunt, but Ray noticed that he didn't object to the idea of a treat.  
+++++

"You're as lovely as ever my dear lady," Campion said as he bowed low over Eloise's hand, brushing his lip across it lightly. His mustache tickled.

"And you must be Lady du Rochefort." He turned and greeted Helene the same way, but with a bit less familiarity.

"Now then," he said as he settled into the comfortable armchair he favored when visiting his friend Eloise. "I understand, Madame, that you have a few items you wish me to appraise for you?"

"They are family heirlooms. Quite old. I'm still not certain I want to part with them but Eloise suggested I have them appraised before I make a decision either way."

"A wise suggestion to be sure. I'm happy to take a look at them for you." He cleared his throat loudly and looked hopefully at Eloise. She laughed and shook her head, already heading for the cabinet where she kept a bottle of single malt just for him.

"Thank you, dear. I am a bit dry," he told her as she poured. For herself and Helene there was a nice red wine and they enjoyed their drinks and conversation for a quarter of an hour before Campion was ready to see the items.

Eloise had covered a large tray with a folded black velvet wrap and Helene had laid out the items on it. She had cleaned them herself, not wanting any of the servants to know she had them. The metal had mellowed from a bright gold to a lovely honey color making the jewels stand out brightly.

"Remarkable," Campion said as he leaned closer, scrutinizing the objects. He looked up at them smiling. "Appraising items this old is a rare pleasure, but this is my second lot this week."

"It is?" Helene said a bit sharply. When Campion looked up at her in surprise, she smoothed her features into a smile and asked, "The other items were just like these? These have been in the family so long I came to believe that they were somewhat unique."

"They are, they are." Campion assured her. "Look at that patina. Beautiful. And the craftsmanship there. Nothing like it these days to be sure. The other things must have been about the same age as these. Fantastic."

While Campion studied the items, Eloise and Helene had a silent conversation. Helene seemed determined to have the name of the other possessor of rare artifacts, so Eloise topped off Campion's glass and charmed him with conversation.

By the time he set down the last artifact and drained his glass – again – she knew the name of the other man – Sugar – and she knew that Helene had the confirmation she wanted.

She escorted the two guests off to a late supper in the dining room, smiling and laughing as she played the perfect host. And all the while she waited for when Campion would leave and she and Helene could have a nice, long conversation.  
+++++

"You're going to burn if you don't keep that on," Ray pointed out when he saw that Florian had let the hood of his cloak fall back from his face again. They'd had to walk past the marketplace on the way to visit Ray's old friend and Florian kept getting distracted by the wares and the merchants.

"You're worse than a kid," Ray grumbled as he grabbed Florian's hand and pulled him along. He'd grown accustomed to cooler climates and it was taking a while for him to adjust to being in the Moroccan heat. He was fairly safe from burning, however, unlike his flighty companion, who wouldn't last ten minutes uncovered. Ray really didn't want to answer to Azura if he returned Florian sunburned or suffering from heat stroke.

"Who are we going to meet?" Florian asked, finally pulling his attention away from the distractions of the market. He hoped there would be time for them to explore later once Ray had visited his friend. Florian had been in Morocco this long and had only been in central marketplace a handful of times. Besides, it would be much easier navigating with Ray - Florian had a tendency to get lost.

"His name is Isaac, and he's an old friend. He watched out for all the orphans in the area - gave us food sometimes or old clothes. He made sure we had lessons too, but we made him work for it - having to chase us with that cane of his."

'Sounds like a nice man." Florian was pleased that Ray had had someone looking out for him. He and his mother had given what they could spare to local orphanages, but there were so many children and not much left to give at the end.

He was an orphan now too, he realized. He hadn't really thought of it in those terms before. For all of Azura's faults, he'd done some kind things - especially in the days after his mother... Florian didn't remember much about those, but he knew that he was fed and cared for and he had one clear memory of lying in Azura's arms weeping, but there was no real connection to any of that and he didn’t try to make it clearer. The pain of his mother's loss was a permanent ache in his chest but he'd learned to live with it now.

"We're almost there. Pull your hood down... We're attracting too much attention already." Ray pulled Florian along impatiently, aware of the interested eyes tracking their movements. He had no worries for his own safety - he was fast and agile and knew how to fight, but Florian was the kind of easy target thieves dream of. He had no sense of the people watching them from the shadows, nor did he seem to understand what would happen to a pretty white man in such a place.

Azura provided some level of protection, but he wasn't here and Florian could be well hidden before Azura returned. Of course, given Azura's mood, those people might die when he caught them, but it wasn't a sure thing.

No, better to move quickly and get to Isaac's house before there was a problem. Ray made a mental note to berate himself later for his own stupidity in bringing Florian along. It had been an impulsive offer, and Ray wasn't usually impulsive. But he did want to walk the marketplace with Florian and perhaps share a few memories with the man - someone who would probably be able to understand the wonder of the place for a young boy - even one who knew first-hand the dangers there as well.

"You love it here, don't you?" Florian asked suddenly, slowing a little but still moving along behind Ray without protest. He glanced up towards the bright cloudless sky so far overhead. It was like looking up from the bottom of the ocean.

Around them was dirt and poverty. The buildings were dingy and in disrepair, the people were ragged and watched them with suspicious gazes but still... It reminded Florian of the time he'd gotten lost in the wrong section of Paris and had wandered like a visitor in a foreign land. He'd been frightened, but he'd also been filled with curiosity and wonder that a place could be so dismal and yet contain surprising beauty.

Florian's uncle used to call him a dreamer and had often lectured him about the real world and the need to be cynical and prepared for anything. Florian had listened, but no matter how many times the words entered his ears, they never took root in his heart.  
+++++

"Let me see that." Pierre leaned over and snatched the letter out of Solomon's hand, studying it intently. He turned it over then back again and read it once more. "I can't believe you got an invitation to tea from Lady Fairmont herself." Pierre pulled back and grinned, tapping Solomon with the invitation. "It does say you can bring a guest."

"And you just happen to be free, I suppose?" Solomon countered, not looking up from the pile of mail he was sorting. Pierre had offered to give him a ride home and help him make arrangements to travel to Morocco. Now, apparently, he was hoping to accompany him to tea with a woman Solomon had never heard of.

"Who is Lady Fairmont and why would she invite me to tea."

"Solly," Pierre shook his head in mock despair at his friend's ignorance. "Lady Eloise Fairmont – sinfully wealthy and even more sinfully attractive. Widowed for years now and the prize that every unmarried aristocrat covets."

"Even more reason to wonder what she would want with me. I'm hardly an aristocrat and I'm not in the market for a wife."

"I should hope not!" Pierre teased. "She'd have to be a saint to put up with you. No, I suspect that we may have a mutual acquaintance or two."

Solomon pondered that for a moment, considering the list of friends and acquaintances. There certainly weren't obvious choices – most of those on the list were trades people or friends from the local pub. Pierre was likely to be the closest to an aristocrat that Solomon ever got. Unless…

"Madame Rochefort?" Solomon asked, mind working overtime to remember any information he might have ever read about her or Lady Fairmont. Given the limited circle that aristocrats seemed to travel in, it was likely that they were related in some way.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps Campion is the clue. He does most of his appraisal work for that crowd. He's likely to be known by Lady Fairmont."

It made sense on several points – Campion had seen the artifacts Madame had given him. If Madame was staying with Lady Fairmont – another good possibility – and had asked Campion to appraise any of her remaining pieces, he was sure to have made the association. Not that he would have given too much information – he didn't believe the man was indiscreet – but it was easy to be flattered and charmed by an attractive woman and Campion did seem the type to enjoy a little flattery.

Solomon took the invitation back and scanned it again before handing it to Pierre.

"There's the phone. You make the call and tell her we accept while I sort the rest of this lot. Then you can go look through my wardrobe and see if there's anything proper for the two of us to wear."

Pierre laughed at the idea of finding something suitable in Solomon's possession – the man's sense of fashion was barely passable – but he'd make the effort for a laugh, already knowing what he'd wear from his own wardrobe, and imagining several choices he could offer his friend.

"And stop laughing," Solomon snapped, opening yet another bill. He knew Pierre would ignore him – he always did.  
+++++


	7. Chapter 7

"What do you want?" the old man demanded, standing in the doorway to his house and clutching his cane.

"Isaac, I'm Ray." Ray said smoothly, a hint of hopefulness in his voice.

"I know that. Do you think I'm feeble-minded? Still doesn't tell me what you want." Isaac turned his head to look at Florian, his face partly concealed by his cloak. "You bringing a woman here? You married?"

"No, this is my friend, Florian." Ray gestured for Florian to keep the hood on. "May we come in?"

"Yeah, yeah. Come in already. Making an old man stand around all day and not answering simple questions. You always were an ill-mannered brat." He turned and shuffled into the house with Ray and Florian trailing him. It was a small space, but the room was tidy and well-kept if a bit worn looking. Ray and Florian took seats at the table as directed and Isaac brought over glasses and an earthenware pitcher of cool tea.

Florian removed his hood, and cloak, glad to be freed from the extra layer of fabric in this heat. He was very grateful for the beverage and took several sips immediately, not waiting for his host, yet unwilling to be so impolite as to drain the glass in one go.

"How are you, Isaac?" Ray looked around, happy to see that the place hadn't changed that much. He'd chosen to visit at this time of day knowing that it was between mealtimes so Isaac wouldn't feel the need to feed them. He didn't bring anything – much to Florian's objections – because Isaac would have refused it, but he was carrying a small coin purse that he'd be leaving behind. Isaac could use it for the orphans if he wouldn't keep it for himself.

"You still didn't tell me what you're doing here. I thought I was rid of you for good."

"You know we never really leave," Ray teased him. "We miss your smiling face and have to come back."

Isaac snorted in disbelief and took a long drink. "There's some of you I wish would stay gone. That friend of yours, Azura. He took off for America and should have stayed there. He came back all funny – like he's not right in the head. Used to be a good boy, watching out for you lot. Now he's shifty and mean – strutting around the market like he owns the place and everyone in it."

"Why do you say that?" Ray asked, his chest tightening. It was one thing to see the way Azura treated Florian and to catch a bit of it himself. But hearing Isaac say such things somehow made it irrefutable.

"They say he's the head of some big criminal organization now – has his hands in everything – drugs, robbery, killing. He had a bit of a dangerous streak as a kid, but he wouldn't have done things like that. It had to be that man that adopted him – took him away and taught him all the wrong things. You know how those uncivilized places are."

"I don't think America is uncivilized," Ray said, focusing on the least painful part of the conversation. He'd already admitted, to himself at least, that Azura had had the seeds of this kind of behavior in him as a youth, but he never imagined his friend could go so far as murder. He hastily looked down, blinking rapidly, covering his distress by studying his drink.

"Do you know anything about this criminal organization. Is this fact or rumors?" Florian asked, his voice soft and polite but insistent. Ray was grateful to him for diverting Isaac's attention and used the opportunity to put his polite mask in place.

"They call themselves the Black Hand. Black Hearts they should be called, what with all the evil things they do." Isaac reached out and touched Ray's face, patting it. "I know what he did for you boy, watched out for you and protected you. Even lost his eye. But that doesn't mean you owe him more than a good life. Don't you let him turn you that way too. You're not meant for that."

"But…" Ray couldn't bring himself to say the words – to confess his crimes as Noir, even if he did give a lot of the profit to charity – or to defend his friends. He couldn't bring himself to give up on Azura yet – there was still good in him somewhere, there had to be

"I am in debt to Azura," Florian confessed drawing Isaac's attention once again. "Ray has promised to do something for Azura in exchange for my freedom. If there's anything you can tell us – anything that we should know…" Florian's voice trailed off and he looked at Ray. He couldn't bring himself to actually say they needed protection from Azura.

"You're in a mess, you are. The two of you." Even as he was chastising them, it was clear that Isaac was trying to think of something that could help them. After several moments of tense silence he had the answer. "This might be something. Not that I know all the story, or can be sure it will help but there was talk around here lately that Azura was searching for something – something big like a treasure. Said he had a man killed to get some ancient scroll that would lead him to it. Some say that that man was an important member of a secret clan set to protect the very thing Azura is after. If you could find out what the treasure is and who'd be trying to protect it - that might be something worth knowing."

Ray and Florian exchanged looks, knowing that this was something they could use – a new lead in their research that might help them find out the real significance of the Queen's treasures.

Relaxing a little, Ray changed the subject, asking after some of the other orphans he'd grown up with and about merchants who used to slip the children fruit or bits of bread on occasion.

When the tea was gone and the conversation exhausted, the men took their leave of Isaac. The old man tapped Ray with his cane – his equivalent of a hug apparently – and then surprised Florian by turning to him with a piece of advice.

"Trust in this one to help you, boy. You've no future in that man's house. Ray's a brat but his word is better than gold." He tugged at the edge of Florian's cape as he added, "And cover up for goodness sake. You'll have everyone knowing your business, walking around with that hair."

Florian laughed and thanked him, pulling the hood up over his head. Beside him, Ray was trying not to look smug.

They retraced their steps to the market, moving as quickly as they could through the narrow streets and crowds. It was a relief when they finally reached the more open area of the market.

Ray wasn't really interested in the wares that were for sale, but Florian was fascinated by everything. He seemed especially drawn to the colorful glassware – particularly perfume bottles - that caught and reflected the afternoon sunlight.

They were stopped in front of an overloaded table while Florian studied glass and tile, when the merchant let out a laugh.

"It is you. I'd know those eyes anywhere – you were one of the creatures that vexed me not so many years ago." He came out of the stall and embraced Ray. "Look at you now, one of those fancy gentlemen." He looked over at Florian who was still covered up but whose hood had slipped back a little revealing his fair features. "Brought one back with you, did you? Given the look of you, you shouldn't be wanting a handout this time."

"Not that I ever got one here anyway, old man. Not that I wanted any of your old junk." Florian looked shocked at the words, but the merchant just laughed. "Still a brat, no matter the fancy clothes. And one with a bad memory no less – forgetting all the times I sent a bit of food your way.”

"He could eat, he could. Such a tiny thing but an attitude and an appetite twice his size." The merchant looked at Florian, then back at Ray, frowning a little. "That explains it – you must be visiting Azura." He gestured towards Florian. "I remembered seeing you before and heard you were Azura's guest."

"Still sticking your nose in I see," Ray teased the man. He'd didn't like the amount of attention they were drawing so he gestured at the stall. "Never mind your sales pitch – show my friend the real goods."

The man shook his head at Ray – the boy had no appreciation for the traditions of shopping. Dragging it out was half the fun. Muttering under his breath he went into the souk, making a quick assessment of what the fair one might like. The merchant had always been good at reading people and it was a certainty that no matter who did the buying, it was the fair one that would do the choosing.

He'd been looking at glass – so that called for small colorful items. He opened a cupboard and took out a deep tray with an assortment of nice but not the best items. If the man was Azura's long-term guest then it wouldn't be wise for Ray to be buying him anything too fine.

Ray took one glance at the tray and gave the merchant a look to let him know he was aware that they weren't seeing the best of his inventory. Florian, however, was oblivious to their wordless exchange as he reviewed the contents of the tray, letting out a soft "oh" when he found something especially interesting.

It was a brass harp, small enough to sit in the palm of his hand and decorated with small gem-like bits of colored glass. A couple of the strings were broken but the rest were fine.

"May I?" Florian asked, itching to touch the strings and see if they would play. The merchant nodded his permission, already tasting a sale.

The sound was tinny and off-key, but there were tiny pegs where the strings could be tuned. Florian was delighted. While he tested and adjusted the strings, Ray and the merchant haggled. Florian tried to object, telling Ray that he didn't need the harp, but Ray waved it off and Florian stopped protesting.

When they finally left the merchant with the harp, all three men were content. Ray stopped a few more places to pick up a selection of treats he hadn't enjoyed in a while, while Florian trailed along holding his harp protectively in the cloth the merchant had given him.

"We'd better get back," Ray said at last, looking skyward and realizing how late it was. Florian agreed, more tired from the heat than he wanted to admit. The streets were wider here than near Isaac's house, but there were still crowds so they didn't talk much as they returned to Azura's house.

Ray didn't realize it until he was in the bath washing away the dust of the marketplace but he'd been glad to see the familiar sights of his old home. It had been good to see Isaac and the merchants too – even if some of them still treated him like he was ten. Most of all, he was happy to have made it back before Azura returned.  
+++++

"Solomon," Lady Fairmont greeted her guest warmly, shaking his hand. She glanced over at his companion and smiled even wider – so far things were going as she'd planned. "Pierre, it's been too long." She shook his hand also, having developed an aversion to having her hand kissed. There were some men who would never break the tradition, but she changed it when she could.

"You gentlemen don't mind if I call you by your first names, do you? Of course I expect you to call me Eloise, And here is my friend, Helene du Rochefort." The men agreed to abide by the lady's wishes. It eased a bit of the formality although Solomon was still not comfortable in such an intimate setting with both Madame Rochefort and the powerful Lady Fairmont. Thankfully Pierre was better at these kinds of social situations. He was making light conversation as he allowed Eloise to direct them to the salon where a small table and chairs had been set up for an informal tea.

"I understand that you've met Helene before, Solomon." Eloise didn't plan on wasting time in getting to the point. The idle chatter could wait until after she had gotten what she wanted. She'd made some arrangements this morning in anticipation of Solomon's arrival – plans that even Helene wasn't aware of.

"We've had the pleasure," Solomon assured her, putting on his best, blandly polite expression. He turned slightly to make a point of acknowledging Helene as he spoke.

"And I understand that you've agreed to assist her in locating her dear son Florian." Eloise poured the tea, her tone deceptively casual. She glanced up and saw a flicker of amusement in Pierre's eyes and correctly surmised that she had an ally.

"I have, although," Solomon looked a bit embarrassed to add, "I'm afraid I don't remember exactly what he looks like. I've met him once, briefly, and seen pictures in the paper – the society column – but it has been a while." He was exaggerating a little, trying to puzzle out the real reason that he'd been invited to Lady Fairmont's house.

"Quite right," Eloise said soothingly as she placed finger sandwiches on each plate. Usually she'd have people help themselves, but it cut down on distractions and she retained better control by serving. "I have photographs I can loan you. And there's a small portrait there." She gestured towards one wall where there was an array of portraits – including one of Florian when he accepted his title.

"Thank you," Solomon said emphatically. He'd been somewhat confident that there weren't many amethyst-eyed blonds in Morocco, but it never paid to take chances. He had a good memory for faces and was sure he wouldn't need to take the photographs. But if Eloise insisted, he wouldn't refuse.

"Have you made arrangements for your trip?" Eloise asked. She was thankful that Helene was letting her ask the questions for now. They hadn't really discussed what they would say to Solomon, especially in the presence of his guest, but it was clear that Pierre had been taken into Solomon's confidence.

"I've checked the schedules of several passenger ships but haven't purchased a ticket yet."

"No? Excellent. I've got just the solution for you Solomon. And I assure you, you would be doing me a tremendous favor in this. You see, I have a friend, a widower, who is traveling to Morocco with his young son and finds himself in need of a tutor for the boy on the journey."

"Tutor?" Solomon was shocked but Pierre had to cover his mouth with his napkin to muddle his laughter. Solomon gave him a measured look before turning back to Eloise. "I don't have any experience as a tutor. Or with minding children."

"But you do have experience as a policeman and I'm afraid that might be what the boy needs most. You see, his mother died in most unfortunate circumstances."

"What happened?" Pierre asked.

"The father is Henri Tassel, of Tassel Bank. Some ruffians from that gang of thieves, the Black Hand, tried to blackmail him and force him to give them a large collection of valuable jewelry that had been placed in the bank vault for safekeeping. Tassel refused and, after capturing him and trying to coerce him, they changed tactics and went after his wife. Her carriage was forced off the road on the way home from visiting a friend. The poor woman was badly injured and died two days later. Poor Henri could barely cope for a while but now he's getting back on his feet. However, he refuses to leave his young son, Noel, behind and he can't really mind the child without help. If you would agree to go, you could provide friendship and protection for the boy. He's only five so you wouldn't need to do much more than help him with reading and writing."

Eloise sat back, drained, yet proud of herself for pulling everything together so quickly. She'd be able to help two friends and that unfortunate child as well as provide a traveling companion for Solomon - a companion who would dutifully write her to let her know of their progress. It was as close to ideal a solution as she could devise in such a short time.

She was hoping that having Solomon travel with Henri would open a few more doors to the detective. He seemed like a perfectly nice man and she'd heard that he was a competent detective, but there were things aristocrats could do just by virtue of their position in society.

"It sounds like the perfect plan," Pierre told the others, giving Eloise a small toast with his glass. She returned the toast graciously, deciding that she would have to make a point of seeing more of Pierre.  
+++++

"I hear that you bought Florian a present," Azura said mildly as he ate another bite of his dessert. It was just the three of them dining and Azura had asked that the meal be served in his rooms.

He had returned in a very good mood in the late afternoon, well after Ray and Florian were back, bathed and rested from their time in the marketplace. Ray had been in the library looking up information on secret clans or groups associated with the ancient Carthaginian queen while Florian had gone off to find Laila and get cleaning supplies to polish and re-string his small harp.

Now the three of them were finishing an informal meal and relaxed conversation. It was nice, Ray mused, not to have the tension that had hung over most of his time in Azura's house. Whatever matter Azura had gone to attend to, it clearly had gone well.

At Azura's question about the present, Florian looked up shyly and smiled. "Ray was kind enough to escort me to the marketplace so I wouldn't get lost."

"And you saw something you couldn't resist?" Azura was all smiles and sweet indulgence as he looked at Florian.

"It is a lovely little harp, but I didn't request that he buy it. He indulged me out of kindness."

"It was kind," Azura said as he pushed aside his empty plate. Ray had already finished eating and Florian was full. Florian silently rose and cleared away the plates and silverware leaving only their beverages. Loading everything onto the cart, he pushed it out of the room and left it in the hallway. On his way past the table to his seat, Azura reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"It's your day for presents, Florian. I brought you something too." Azura pulled Florian down onto his lap sideways and pushed open Florian's robe. While Ray watched avidly but uncomfortably, Azura slid his hand along Florian's exposed chest and then lowered his head so he could lick Florian's left nipple. Florian shivered a little at the wet contact and then shivered again when Azura nipped the small bit of sensitive flesh.

When Azura lifted his head again, he looked over at Ray. "Would you bring me that small case from the nightstand?"

Ray did as he'd been asked, retrieving the small jewelry case and holding it out to Azura. The man shook his head and asked Ray to open it since Azura's hands were full. The heavy lid of the case was lifted up to reveal a pair of small gold hoop earrings with diamonds. He frowned, confused for a moment before realization struck - they weren't meant for ears.

"Azura, no." Ray protested, wanting to take the jewelry away but he knew that doing something to make Azura mad would just make things worse, especially for Florian.

"Bring that candle over here, would you, and get a pillow from the bed." Azura continued to caress Florian while he watched Ray do as he'd been asked. "Put the candle on the table where I can reach it and the pillow on the floor. Good, now kneel if you'd like to have a turn at the boy yourself."

Ray dropped to his knees, knowing there was no other choice. Secretly, he was excited by the thought of touching Florian again - perhaps doing more - and from the expression on Florian's face, he wasn't objecting to what was happening so far.

Ray caught a glimpse of Azura's whip, coiled neatly at the man's waist and thought of his own whip tucked away in his suitcase. He hadn't worn it since he arrived knowing that Azura would take offence if he did. He felt odd without that weight, as if he were vulnerable without it. He knew how to fight, of course - proper fighting like a gentleman and the rougher no rules style of the streets learned in his youth - mostly from Azura.

Florian leaned back a little as Azura continued to caress him, hands moving downward to where the robe was tied. Without speaking Azura let Ray know that he should be the one to untie it and, when Ray did, Azura caught Ray's head and pressed him forward to kiss Florian's stomach.

Pushing Ray back suddenly, Azura shifted Florian in his lap so that Florian's back was pressed against Azura's chest. Azura moved his legs so Florian's were spread open over them and he pulled Florian's head back so he could bite the smaller man's neck.

Taking the invitation for what it was, Ray leaned forward again and kissed his way down Florian's stomach to his thigh, then trailed up and over to the other leg where he continued up until he'd made a complete circuit without actually touching Florian's erection.

Florian moaned and reached for Ray but Azura caught and trapped his arms, spreading him even wider for Ray.

Not one to refuse a gift, Ray rose up on his knees and kissed and nipped his way up Florian's chest, across and down the other side, completing another circuit on the man's sensitive body. From the way he was writhing, Florian didn't object to Ray's attentions, or to Azura's.

"Stand up," Azura commanded and Ray jumped to his feet in response. He opened his own robe as ordered and stood in front of the pillow. A moment later, Azura slid Florian down off of his lap down onto the pillow where he fed him Ray's eager erection.

Ray moaned and gripped Florian's head, pulling the man closer, pushing deeper. Florian took him without protest and only a little faltering. Ray kept up the steady pressure and after a few moments, Florian calmed, relaxing enough to take Ray in deep.

"He can take more than that. Do I need to remind you how to use a willing mouth?"

Ray ignored Azura's taunt until Azura placed one hand on Florian's head and the other on Ray's hip and drove them together, causing Florian to flail and choke. Azura slapped him smartly on his ass.

Taking the cue, Ray tightened his grip and thrust harder. He wouldn't last long like this - just a few more... Azura pushed them again and Florian's instinctive reaction to tighten his throat drove Ray over the edge. He cursed loudly as he came and Florian obediently swallowed and licked him clean afterwards.

"Very nice, Azura said as he stood up, taking the candle and brushing past them as he went towards the bed. He set the candle down on the nightstand and shed his clothing. Stretching out on the bed, Azura watched as Ray and Florian tried to regain their wits. When he'd waited long enough, he snapped his fingers at them.

Sharing a look, Ray helped Florian up and they each dropped their robes before joining Azura on the bed. He allowed them a few moments rest, caressing them both as they recovered.

When they were breathing easier, he took up a candle from the bedside table and held it over Florian. With a smirk at Ray, Azura tilted the candle and watched as the hot wax fell onto Florian's side. The unfortunate man knew what was coming but still cried out and clutched at Ray, seeking comfort.

Azura brushed them apart, handing the candle to Ray and pressing Florian down, flat on his back. Ray studied that expanse of warm flesh before selecting a spot over his stomach and letting the wax fall.

There were plenty of candles around and Azura and Ray gathered and used most of them as they painted Florian with hot wax. The man was whimpering at the pain/pleasure of it, especially when one of them would teasingly remove the small bits of cooled wax, leaving over sensitized skin underneath.

With Florian lying quietly between them for a moment, Azura took up the jewelry box again, opening it and offering it to Ray.

"I realize we never formalized our agreement. Instead of signatures, I thought we should use something more appropriate - which nipple do you prefer?"

Florian lifted his head, looking at each of them in turn, his expression fearful - he'd finally understood that Azura meant to pierce his nipples and make him wear those rings. He'd seen something like that once when a couple of his friends had shown him a book of erotic photographs that the one boy had found in his father's library. It had been a lady in the picture, dressed in a corset and lots of satin and lace, but where proper ladies would have fabric covering their top, the lady in the photo was bare. Jeweled rings had dangled from her huge breasts and Florian had felt only pity for her.

"Do they frighten you, dear boy? Or is it shame? A purebred aristocrat like yourself pierced like a common tart. But think how pretty it will be when we add a collar and chains. There's even a fitting for a leash." Azura stroked Florian's hair as he taunted him in the gentlest of voices. Florian turned to Ray, pleading with his eyes for the man to find some way to save him from such degradation. He could - and had - handled being whipped and even penetrated by a man - those things happened in private. But to have to wear such things in his skin - in public - even if it was under his clothing - it was too much.

"Please," Florian whispered, appealing directly to Ray. "Please don't."

Ray hated marking beautiful things and the thought of piercing Florian sickened him. He turned to Azura, determined. "There must be another way we can finalize this contract."

"You won't like it," Azura warned, his voice light. He closed the jewelry case and set is aside, taking up his whip instead. "You know," he said conversationally. "He's never once cried out when I've whipped him. He weeps and sometimes he faints, but he never cries out." Azura passed the whip to Ray. "Carve your initials in him with this. If he cries out, he'll get twenty more. If he doesn't you can fuck him until he screams." Azura pushed Florian towards the side of the bed, watching before adding one more thing. "Of course I'll be taking you while you're inside him."

Ray simply nodded, accepting the condition because there was no alternative.

"Stand against the wall, as close as you can get, palms flat." Ray instructed. Florian complied quickly, unable to look at Ray's face.

It would take eight strokes, Ray calculated - four for each letter. But they would have to be controlled, short strokes, which were tricky but manageable. He swung the whip experimentally, wishing he had his own but knowing that it wouldn't be wise to ask permission to get it.

A few test strikes had Florian visibly shaking but it was necessary. It was also worth it, Ray decided, as he landed the first almost-perfect stripe. It didn't take long after that - Ray purposely delivered the marks as close together as he could knowing that it would be less painful for Florian that way, even if he didn't realize it.

With the final stripe laid, the letters RC stood out brightly on Florian's bloody and sweat-soaked back. Ray returned the whip to Azura and went to get a cloth for Florian. When he returned, Florian was lying facedown on the bed and Azura was licking the wounds.

Tossing the cloth aside, Ray reached for the lube, preparing himself while he could. He was glad that he'd used plenty when Azura refused him the time to prepare Florian.

"Remember why you're doing this," Azura scolded. "You're leaving your mark." Lying down on the bed beside Florian and lazily stroking himself, Azura watched as Ray moved into position and sank into Florian's tense, pain-wracked body. It wasn't an easy joining, but Azura watched avidly.

Finally, after Ray had given several deep thrusts, Azura moved into position behind him, Pressing Ray forward and as deep into Florian as he could go, Azura worked his way into Ray's tight passage.

It took a while to find the right rhythm and by then Florian was half out of his mind with pain and pleasure. He was gripping the sheets hard enough for his knuckles to turn white while bearing the combined force of Ray and Azura's thrusts.

After what felt to Florian like an eternity, Ray came deep inside of him. A few more thrusts and Azura came too. Only Florian was left unfinished, but with the two men working together, he soon reached his climax. He was unconscious before he fell back onto the bed.  
+++++


	8. Chapter 8

Laila pried up the broken tiles moving carefully and quietly. She'd found this hiding space only a few days after her arrival here and had watched it carefully for several weeks before using it.

It was a small space in the corner of the guest room Count Courland had been using. He was dining with Azura and Florian now and likely to be out for a while, but there was still the chance of being caught so she hurried.

Removing the cloth bundle, she tucked it into her clothing and quickly replaced the tiles. She carried it to her room and blocked the door with a chair before taking out the bundle and unwrapping it.

The tiny object rested in the palm of her hand, a clay figure of a person, clothed in scraps of cast off cloth with features made from minute fragments of tile. She'd made the figure soon after arriving in Azura's household – a totem for remembering and honoring her family when they were so far away. Crafting the figure had given her something to do in those first lonely nights after Florian had retired to bed and the household was quiet.

She carried the totem with her at first, but quickly realized that it needed to be hidden. The servants were curious about her and the totem would draw their attention, especially when she used it in the ritual of remembering.

She'd found the cracked tile in the guest room when she was cleaning it one day and had watched it carefully before entrusting her totem to it. Since then, she'd visited it daily when she could, practicing the ritual of remembrance. She didn't always take the figure from the hiding place – some days it was too risky – but she could at least trace the symbols of the ritual on the tiles concealing it.

She'd been practicing the ritual for as long as she could remember – tracing the sacred symbols first on a bit of slate and later on a totem her mother had made for her. It was larger and more elaborate than the one Laila had made, but it served the same purpose.

Sadly, she didn't know the origin or the purpose of the ritual – only that every woman and girl in her clan performed it daily without fail. She'd been told that she could never show anyone outside the clan those symbols or the ritual. When she'd questioned, they'd assured her that the secret of the ritual would be revealed on the night before she married, or on her twentieth birthday, whichever came sooner.

Laila had been looking forward to finally learning the secret on her next birthday but she'd been stolen away two short months beforehand and now the date was past.

She'd cried that day, overcome with loss at the thought that she might never know the secret. Florian had found her weeping in a corner of the garden and had held her, offering silent comfort. After a while, she had calmed and he had taken her back to his room where they shared tea and conversation until she felt steady enough to tell him why she was so upset.

He hadn't promised to make it better – hadn't made any promises at all, but his gentleness and compassion helped her through the worst of her sadness and she was able to return to her duties dry-eyed and calm.

She remembered that now as she placed the wrapped figure carefully in the travel case Florian had given her. He'd assured her that she would be going with them on their journey to Carthage and she wanted to be packed and ready to leave as soon as she got the word. She'd already mixed up a supply of ointments, potions and salves that might be needed on the trip – including something for Florian. He'd made her laugh with his stories of the mishaps he'd suffered because of his seasickness.

Casting a look around the room, she was content that she hadn't forgotten anything. She had a change of clothes out for the next day and the few other items she'd need. The rest of her belongings were packed. Now all she had to do was be patient.  
+++++

"Monsieur Tassel?" Solomon held his hand out in greeting to the brown-haired, bespectacled man standing on deck with a small boy at his side. The man and boy gave Solomon matching looks of curiosity making him smile. "I'm Solomon Sugar. I believe you spoke to Lady Fairmont about me."

"Ah yes. Certainly. The tutor. You're here in good time – plenty to get us all settled and be back on deck for the launch. I promised Noel we wouldn't miss it."

"Of course," Solomon assured them both. "We wouldn't want to miss that. Best part of the trip."

Noel looked up at him, blue eyes wide as he walked along between the two men. The boy was dressed in a sailor suit with short pants and carrying a stuffed bear nearly as large as himself.

"Papa," he whispered urgently pulling on his father's hand. "You forgot Betty Deux." He lifted the bear for emphasis.

"Oh dear. How thoughtless of me. Monsieur Sugar, this is Betty Deux. Betty, this is Solomon Sugar."

"Lovely to make your acquaintance, Miss." Solomon shook the bear's paw.

"She likes reading," Noel assured him. "And coloring and music. She's not very good at math."

"Oh dear. Well then she will need to practice or all the stuffing in her head will go to one side and she'll fall over."

"That happens now." Noel said with a hint of worry in his voice. "It's not too late to fix, is it?"

"Not if she studies hard and eats her vegetables."

"Betty Deux doesn't like vegetables," Noel said seriously.

"Then you'll have to set a good example for her." Solomon noticed that the boy's father was having trouble keeping a straight face. Apparently the battle of the vegetables was still being waged between parents and children. He'd driven his own mother to distraction over his refusal to eat peas.

"We're here, Noel. Would you please show your tutor to his rooms?" He handed the key to Solomon.

"Come on," Noel urged, grabbing Solomon's hand and towing him down the hall to the next-door and waiting impatiently while Solomon unlocked it.

The boy allowed Solomon to enter first before following him into the suite. Solomon was pleased to find it so roomy – the last time he'd traveled by passenger ship he'd had to share a room barely big enough for the two bunk beds, a tiny table and a dresser.

"Look!" Noel scampered over and opened an interior door to show that it connected to the suite he and his father would share. He ran through and gave his father a hug before turning around and running back to Solomon.

"Noel!" M. Tassel called. "No running."

"Yes, Papa," Noel replied, slowing to a walk. He explored the rest of Solomon's suite while Solomon unpacked his suitcases. He preferred to travel light, but this was going to be a long trip and he'd need a variety of clothes – from a formal suit for dinners aboard ship to more casual, lighter clothing for when he was in Morocco. Pierre had teased him mercilessly about this wardrobe and then dragged him off to the shops. Solomon had purchased more clothing in that one afternoon than he'd bought in the last five years.

He had to admit that it was nice having the money to indulge himself a little. He'd taken Pierre out to dinner after the shopping marathon and they'd shared a bottle of excellent wine.

Now he was here in a first class suite about to become the temporary tutor of a young boy despite having no experience with children. He was on his way to a foreign land to face down a rich and reportedly ruthless man to free a young aristocrat whose mother had killed her own brother and his wife - a pair with ties to the Black Hand, the gang who had murdered his sister and brother-in-law and who had wanted to murder Madame Rochefort to get the family's legendary diamond. A diamond that would kill anyone who tried to possess it.

Solomon finished unpacking and stood up, pushing aside thoughts and worries about the real reason for making this journey.

Watching as Noel bounced Betty Deux on his bed, he had the feeling that distracting himself from his mission wouldn't be as difficult as he'd expected.  
+++++

"Breakfast is waiting. Get up." Azura slapped Florian's backside to get his attention. He'd been up for over an hour ordering the servants around as they made preparations for his trip. He'd let Ray and Florian sleep because it kept them out of his way. Now, however, he had had enough of the two men lying tangled together, sleeping peacefully.

Florian climbed out of bed slowly, sticky and sore. Ray moved a bit faster and was up and in the bathroom before Florian had put his robe on. Florian stumbled after him, yawning while Azura rang for the servants who were waiting outside to strip and remake the bed.

Ray was content to rinse off quickly and wear only a robe to breakfast, but Florian took the time to properly wash and dress in a suit. At first he was uncomfortable in the Arabian garb that Azura often insisted he wear, but now he was used to it and enjoyed the freedom of loose lightweight cloth. After last night, however, he felt the need to reclaim a little of himself by wearing a suit.

The tight clothing rubbed against his skin but he endured it. It wasn't the first time he'd been sore after a night with Azura.

He didn't allow himself to dwell on the events of the previous evening. Azura had no patience for what he called Florian's melancholies, and Florian himself didn't care to brood over it. What he felt for Azura – and Ray – was far too complex to ponder before breakfast.

Taking up his coffee cup, he inhaled the fragrance, letting it wake him. He was making mental lists of what he'd need for the trip and guessed that Ray and Azura were doing the same, given their silence.

When Azura casually speared a bit of fruit and offered it to him, Florian obediently opened his mouth, but when Azura did the same for Ray, the man refused.

Florian knew it was the wrong thing to do and wondered if Ray wasn't aware of that fact. Fortunately, Azura seemed to take the refusal in stride, reclaiming the morsel and eating it himself.

They finished their meal in silence.

"We leave at noon," Azura told them as he stood. He looked at Ray and then at Florian. "Have your suitcases packed and taken to the car by 11:00.I'll see you in the dining room then for an early lunch." He turned to Ray and added, "Make sure the girl is ready. I won't be delayed by a servant."

Ray and Florian watched him go, leaving the remnants of the meal behind as they went to do some final packing. Florian took a detour to find Laila and relay the message while Ray took one last inventory of the library for any additional books they might need.

A few hours later, they were all seated in the dining room, eating a light lunch and reviewing last minute matters before they departed.

Laila was in the kitchen having her own lunch and tucking away some bread and fruit for later.

When the men climbed into the car, she rode along behind them in the wagon with the other servants who were going on the journey as well as those who would transport the vehicles back home.

She looked back at Azura's home for as long as she could but the moment it was out of sight, she turned her gaze forward and didn't look back again.  
+++++

They had the use of three first class suites, all with interconnecting doors. Azura claimed the one in the middle and let Ray take his choice of the other two. Florian would probably spend most of the voyage in one of their beds but Azura liked having the extra space and it gave him somewhere to send Florian when Azura grew tired of him.

Florian was prone to seasickness, a weakness that Azura neither understood nor tolerated. He passed it off as one more of the boy's frailties – one that would have to be endured because he needed Florian along on this journey as both an enticement and a control for his impetuous friend, Ray.

Besides, there were a limited number of things one could do on a ship and Florian was always good for a diversion. He was also good at interacting with the other aristocrats and businessmen aboard when Azura didn't care to deal with them.

Azura did have to give credit to the boy's mother – he'd been well trained for social situations. Of course his beauty didn't hurt either – it had been a useful distraction at social functions before.

Ray was more of a wild card, you never knew if he would play the good aristocrat – and he could play the part well if he chose to. On the other hand, if Ray was feeling rebellious, he was just as likely to steal their jewelry while he was making polite conversation.

Ray had managed to make a rather scandalous reputation for himself in only a few short years in Paris between his mixed heritage, his reluctance to attend social events and his chosen career as a usurer. Of course that didn't mean he couldn't be charming and he had that roguish edge that ladies and certain men seemed to find intriguing.

Azura enjoyed a little of that himself – his scar and eye patch seemed irresistible to some people – a fact that he was always happy to exploit. He'd learned early and well to do what needed to be done – lessons that had been reinforced when Romwell had adopted him and taken him to America.

As Romwell's adopted son, he enjoyed wealth, power and privileges he'd never dared to dream of as an orphan on the streets of Morocco. He'd gladly endured the training and the punishments in exchange.

He could still remember standing naked in Romwell's hotel in Morocco, straight from the first real bathtub bath he'd ever had. Romwell had studied him, making him turn and pose so that every part of him was exposed.

He'd been wary and a bit defiant, doing as he was told, but never taking his eyes off the man for long. Azura was still adjusting to the loss of his eye and had to be extra aware of anything on his left.

In the end, Romwell had spent a week with him in Morocco, having Azura act as guide during the day and as his bed warmer at night. On day five, Romwell invited Azura to accompany him back to America as his adopted son in exchange for Azura's pledge to learn what Romwell wished and ultimately take over a small portion of his business in Morocco.

Neither of them could have predicted Azura's ability to learn and improve that business – nor his capacity for ruthlessness. Soon he was legally adopted as John Davis Romwell, Junior, heir to a vast fortune and owner of businesses worldwide. Only when the paperwork was final did Romwell let his son know about the final piece of his inheritance – the worldwide criminal organization, the Black Hand.

Eventually Azura had taken over responsibilities for one quarter of all business concerns, including the Black Hand, with more responsibilities to be added when Romwell deemed him ready.

Azura understood and agreed with that, for now. But he was already making arrangements for when his responsibilities increased. Finding this treasure would be one more step in that direction. It didn't matter if the legends were true – Azura doubted that they were. It was the symbol he wanted – a flask of pure gold engraved with the Queen's symbols – a sun, a tree, a dagger and a harp. It was said that the flask never emptied no matter how much liquid one poured from it. The liquid inside was supposed to look and taste like sweet red wine, but it could cure any illness or heal any wound. It wasn't immortality, but it was the next best thing – to grow old and never grow sick and frail.

As soon as Azura heard the legend, he knew he had to possess that flask. It had taken more than a year, using everything and everyone at his disposal, and the only thing of consequence he'd found was that riddle.

The man who'd had it gave his life to protect it, and that was reason enough for Azura to believe it would prove useful. It had also given him a reason to make contact with his childhood friend, Ray.

He'd often thought about bringing Ray into his organization – making him one of his closest associates. He'd been following Ray's success, first in school and then in business as a usurer and after-hours as Noir. Reading about his exploits had provided a great deal of amusement, and had proven that Ray had never lost his love for beautiful things.

When word of the Rochefort's financial woes reached Azura, it was one more step towards his goals. Getting the boy's wastrel of an uncle to persuade Florian to choose Azura had been almost too easy. Of course he hadn’t anticipated the mother's death or the destruction of the family home, but had gladly reaped the benefits, With no means or reason to stay in Paris, it was easy enough to take the boy abroad. Once in foreign lands, Florian was completely dependent on Azura. And that was when Azura revealed one of his reasons for wanting the boy.

He certainly couldn't say he didn't enjoy breaking him. It had been a long time since he'd had an innocent in his bed. It was even more enjoyable marking that flawless skin for the first time – watching as it bruised and bled. The tears had only served to sweeten those moments – as did the boy's defiant silence. Yes, Florian had proven himself far more interesting a creature than he'd expected. If he wasn't the perfect lure for Ray, Azura might have been tempted to keep the boy for himself – at least for a little while.

It was too perfect, however, and Azura never missed an opportunity to advance his own interests. He'd simply have to use the boy enough to tire of him before they finished their quest. In the end, he'd probably be glad to send him off with Ray.

It would be harder letting Ray go, but he'd do it. Ray wasn't what he'd expected – the way he protected Florian was proof of that. It would be better to teach him a few lessons – give him some reminders of who held the power in this friendship – and send him and the boy away.

Once he had the flask, Azura wouldn't have time for silly reminiscences anyway.

Content with his reasoning, Azura went in search of a servant to send for the girl.  
+++++

Solomon was exhausted. The trip had barely begun and he was already done for. How did professional tutors and governesses manage?

He settled into the comfortable armchair and took the lid off his meal. He'd been far too tired to endure a long dinner and conversation and had gratefully taken M. Tassel's suggestion that he order a tray delivered to his room instead.

Now he was greeted by the heavenly smells of well-cooked meat and roasted potatoes. He had a novel he'd been wanting to read close at hand, and he had peace and quiet with the probability of an early evening and a restful sleep.

He had to admit that the trip was going better than he'd expected - even with Noel's inexhaustible energy to deal with. Solomon certainly couldn't complain about the luxurious accommodations - it really was something to see how differently he was treated just because of his traveling companions.

Noel was a charming and mostly well-mannered child. He worked hard at his lessons and was usually attentive and polite when someone else was speaking. He enjoyed exploring the ship and Solomon had to admit that he'd enjoyed having the boy as an excuse to venture places he probably wouldn't have gone on his own. The boy had even charmed the captain into letting them see the bridge of the ship. Solomon had been almost as excited as Noel about that.

Thankfully, Monsieur Tassel was a pleasant and easy-going gentleman. He treated Solomon as an equal, and often seemed grateful for Solomon's companionship at meals or in the hours after Noel had gone to bed and before it was time for them to retire to their separate rooms.

The man was busy with business most of the day and spent most of his time either in meetings with other gentlemen passengers or in his room working on paperwork. After the first few days, Solomon made a point of including the father in on some of the boy's adventures and was rewarded by their happy smiles and laughter.

He'd found himself telling M. Tassel most of what had happened to bring him to this position, making sure to praise Lady Fairmont and Madame Rochefort for their help. He found that sharing the story with a relative stranger made it easier to distance himself from, and therefore examine the events more objectively.

A small part of him still thought he was on a fool's errand - what possible reason would the rich and powerful Romwell have for giving Florian up? From what Solomon had heard and seen, Florian was a striking man with a kind heart and mild manner – a good companion for someone like Romwell. Still, Solomon had made a promise and he intended to do his best to return Florian to Paris.

Meanwhile, Solomon found himself in the surprising position of trying to comfort and support the recently widowed M. Tassel. He still couldn't bring himself to call the man who was supposed to be only his employer by his first name - not that it would have been acceptable in public anyway. But even in private he couldn't make himself be so familiar with the man.

It was understandable that he was still grieving. Some part of Solomon was still grieving for his sister and she'd been gone several years now. Tassel was stoic in public, of course, that was expected among the aristocracy. But he never seemed to let go - not even when Noel was overtired and weepy, calling for his mother.

Solomon had lost sleep just two nights ago when the boy had had a nightmare and his distraught father had been too overcome to comfort Noel. The boy had clung to Solomon sobbing for his mother and clutching Betty Deux - a toy his mother had given him.

The next morning, M. Tassel had been embarrassed and apologized repeatedly for his unseemly behavior the night before. Solomon had found that far more unsettling than the late night show of emotion and had tried to tell the man that. When that failed to reassure the man, he'd solemnly accepted the apology and let the matter drop.

Later that day while Noel napped, Solomon thought about his own reaction to his sister's death. He'd raged at the skies at first, and then he'd gone quiet and morose for even longer. There had been many nights with tears, and others when he was sure he would go out of his mind. It was Pierre that had gotten him through, just by being there and offering support, encouragement, food, and quite often liquor.

It hadn't been the big things Pierre had done that had made the most difference - although taking care of the laundry was greatly appreciated. It was the small things that Solomon remembered most about those days. Even now those memories were a comfort. 

Sending a silent thank you to his friend, Solomon vowed to take his example and use it to help M. Tassel and his son, Noel.  
+++++

Laila twisted the hem of her shirt and tried not to flinch under Azura's intense gaze. The man only had one eye, but he used it to best effect when glaring at someone. Right now he was demanding information about the legend of the Queen's Quartet and she was doing her best to answer while still concealing the secrets of her clan. She had missed out on her ceremony, but she'd had the training in preparation and was fully aware of what she could not divulge.

She was still missing vital information, however - things she would have finally learned at the ceremony. Only then would she understand some of the symbols and words she'd been made to learn and practice since childhood. And only then would she be considered a healer in her own right and allowed to wear the sign of her clan's healers - a tree.

She was from a large clan and each of them wore a symbol once they were past the age of initiation. Her mother and grandmother had worn the tree, just as she would, as would her daughters. As a farmer - a provider - her father bore the symbol of the sun. One of her cousins wore a harp symbol that strongly resembled Florian's little toy. According to the stories her mother told, only one member of their family had worn the dagger - the symbol of the elite - the protectors.

Unlike the others, she knew very little about the protectors. One of her old aunts had told her that the protectors were descendants of the Queen's elite guards, but Laila didn't believe her - she was the same aunt that liked to wear her shirt backwards and put sandals on her hands.

Azura changed his line of questioning, asking about her ointments and where she'd learned to make them. The change in topic allowed her to relax a little although he still seemed to be glaring at her. Thankfully Florian was standing behind and to the right of Azura and he was smiling at her to give her encouragement.

It was only after Azura had dismissed her and Florian had led her to his quarters and given her a drink of brandy that she realized that she was shaking.

Florian was kind enough not to comment about her condition. He made jokes about his seasickness - which was less severe than usual thanks to her potion - and then serenaded her with a tune played on his tiny harp.

It didn't sound too bad, she decided - a little tinny and nowhere near the sound of a real harp - but the tune he played was charming for its simplicity.

Laila took another sip of her drink and closed her eyes for just a moment while Florian smiled and launched into a tinny rendition of Frere Jacques.  
+++++

Florian was sprawled across the bed, face down. He was sleeping heavily, his skin shiny with sweat. Ray sat beside him running a warm damp cloth across his back. The initials he'd carved into the man's fair skin were healing well as were the older whip marks Azura had made. Most of the bruises were fading to yellow or already gone.

He felt a little guilty for using him and enjoying it so much, but he had done his best to make sure Florian enjoyed himself too. It helped that Azura was preoccupied with his quest. The man had had Florian working for hours noting down every fact and every half-formed theory they had about the treasure.

Azura had agreed with Laila's suggestion that they should start at the Queen's temple in Carthage. From there, he and Ray had mapped out three possibilities. They were counting on finding something in the temple to help guide them. With luck and Laila's help they would find the artifact within the month Azura had allotted. If it took longer than that, they would have to reassess their situation.

Perhaps he was feeling cynical, but Ray didn't think it would be as easy as Azura expected it to be. They certainly weren't the first people who had searched for the Queen's Tears.

Setting aside the cloth, Ray took up the jar of ointment Laila had given Florian to treat his back. Using the lightest touch he could, Ray smoothed the herbal mixture across the injuries. Laila had promised it would keep the skin soft and help prevent scarring. Ray hoped she was right – he hated damaging anything beautiful.

He thought of the pierced rings Azura had purchased for Florian. They were in the dresser just a short distance away – a fact Azura had taken great pleasure in sharing. Ray knew it was aimed at him more than Florian – a way to assert Azura's control of both men. Ray suppressed his growing anger at his friend's actions and focused on ways of ensuring that he and Florian would get away with minimal damage.

The easiest way for that to happen, was to make sure Azura got the treasure – or found irrefutable proof that it was gone. Laila had mentioned that one of the treasures had been stolen and for all they knew, it could have been the Queen's Tears.

He shook his head at the thought of Azura possessing the magical flask with its never dwindling supply of healing elixir. It was the very thing that would appeal to his egotistical friend. It was also the worst possible thing for him to possess. Ray didn't know what actually changed Azura – although he suspected the man's adopted father played a large part in the transformation. It hurt him to see what Azura had become and it made Ray wonder if he might have gone the same way without the timely intervention of his aunt and uncle.

He thought of his business as a usurer and how more than once he'd privately gloated after doing business with someone who had scorned him. He thought of one man in particular – how he'd made a point of snubbing Ray and refusing to be anywhere near "that heathen". How his wife had loudly lamented the state of present day aristocracy – that just anyone, even half-breeds and bastards were allowed titles when they should be flogged instead. Ray had taken great pleasure in making the man grovel for assistance. He'd drawn out their meeting, taking great pains to flaunt his own wealth. In the end the man had walked out with the money he'd needed to keep his house and feed his family, but he'd been utterly humiliated.

He looked down at Florian, and imagined how he might have treated the man if he'd come to him for help. He couldn't honestly say that he would have been kind to him. Not that he would have treated Florian as cruelly as Azura had, but Ray would have wanted to possess those magnificent amethyst eyes and he wasn't above taking advantage of someone in distress to get what he wanted.

Florian mumbled in his sleep and turned, moving closer to Ray's warmth. Ray was grateful for the distraction and used it to set aside his dark thoughts. Now was not the time to regret his past actions – he had to concentrate on the present for both his and Florian's sake.

Azura was in the next room and Ray knew he should join him, but he couldn't bring himself to leave Florian yet. He needed a few moments of calm. Five minutes, he told himself. He was asleep in three.  
+++++


	9. Chapter 9

Shouting and confusion woke him just before the pounding started. Azura was up and out of bed immediately, slipping on a robe as he went. He yanked open the door and the steward nearly fell into the room.

"What?" he demanded, looking beyond the man to staff filling the corridor.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir. There's a situation..."

Azura had heard enough. Grabbing the man's arm he dragged him into the room and slammed the door behind him.

"Don't waste my time. I want to know what's actually happening, not the story you'll feed the rabble." His hand tightened on the man's arm and his expression was enough to make the man stutter.

"Y-yes, sir. I'm not supposed to tell anyone…" He broke off as Azura dragged him closer, threateningly. "Pirates." He gasped. "Taken over the ship and confined most of the crew below decks. They let a few of us go to tell the passengers to remain in their rooms because of an outbreak of food poisoning. I have to be back soon or they'll do something terrible." The man was trembling violently. "Please, sir."

Azura released his grip and pushed the man away. The man stumbled but caught himself, nodding once and hurrying out as quickly as he could. Azura didn't bother to watch him go, turning instead towards the connecting room. Ray and Florian were already awake and dressed.

"Gather the riddle and everything to do with the treasure – notes, maps – whatever you can find. I don't want anything out for the pirates to see. Once that's done, gather the valuables. We'll hide them too, but in a more obvious place – let them find those and they won't look any farther."

Ray and Florian scrambled to do what they'd been told while Azura changed into a suit and made himself presentable. It was time for him to play the part of a world-traveling businessman and the suit was part of the costume.

"That's everything," Ray reported. They'd hidden the treasure-related materials in several places, maps separate from the riddle itself, and the notes split between three different locations in the three rooms. After that, they'd made a half-hearted effort to conceal their jewelry and other valuables including the set of pierced rings, which Ray wouldn't be sad to lose.

They still carried their wallets, but most of their money was hidden away. The only other item they'd hidden well - at Florian's insistence – was the tiny harp. He knew it wasn't very valuable, but he hated the thought of losing it.

With nothing else to do, the men each occupied their time with a book or letter writing. After a few hours of tension and boredom, a steward delivered lunch trays and the news that they were to remain in their cabins and that they would be called a few at a time to be questioned.

An hour later, the man returned, but this time he was accompanied by Laila, who was looking a bit worse for wear with her face and clothing smudged with dirt.

"Returning your servant, sir," the man said nervously, looking around as if he were expecting someone to appear at any moment. "I'll take your trays if you're finished with them."

Azura pulled Laila into the room while Florian handed the trays to the steward. Once the man was gone, Azura pushed Laila into a chair and demanded to know how she had been able to get to them.

"I was on deck in a quiet corner, when the pirates came, a whole boatload of them. Some had been onboard already and helped subdue the captain and deck crew. With the new arrivals, the rest of the crew was rounded up. I found a hiding place and watched for a while, but when the pirates started a more thorough search, I got out of there."

Laila accepted the glass of water Florian handed her and drained half of it in one go before continuing.

"I managed to get into one of the servants stairways and went down to the kitchen – I knew they'd need to feed everyone eventually and thought I could use that as a way to get here. It took a while – I couldn't leave in the middle of preparing a meal – but finally I was able to slip away. I was almost here when one of them caught me. That steward remembered seeing me with you, master, and said I was your personal servant and offered to bring me to you."

Laila leaned back, still tense but exhausted. She drank the rest of the water and returned the glass to Florian with a grateful smile.

"Did you overhear the pirates say anything while you were hiding?" Azura asked.

"Not much – most of it was spoken too softly for me to understand – they were trying not to make too much noise at first. And then it was someone – probably their leader – giving directions of where to secure the crew and what to do about the passengers."

"No mention of anything specific they're looking for? Did you notice anything unusual about them – how they were dressed or any weapons they were carrying? Any markings on their clothes or skin?"

Laila hesitated a moment, thinking hard. She hadn't really gotten a good look at any of them, she'd been too busy hiding. She thought she'd caught a glimpse of a familiar symbol, but the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that it was just her imagination.

"I didn't really see them, master. It was dark and I was hiding."

"Of course." Azura dismissed her with a gesture and she leapt to her feet, not sure what she should do now. She looked towards Florian who motioned for her to come to his side.

"You'll have to remain here," Azura conceded.

She and Florian stood in awkward silence for a moment, uncertain what Azura wanted them to do. With an irritated wave, Azura finally sent them off to another room. He wanted some peace and quiet to consider his options.

Ray went with them, as glad as Laila and Florian to leave. They retreated to Ray's cabin and made good use of his deck of cards.  
+++++

Florian and Laila were asleep when dinner was delivered. It was the same steward who had brought their lunch, but this time he brought four trays and a bit of information.

"They're letting the below decks passengers use the dining rooms. They've got guards watching but they don't seem that interested in searching their rooms. The middle class passengers have been restricted to their rooms too and some of them are getting upset. We've got at least three cases of hysteria so far. The first class passengers are doing better, but they have more room. Everyone is getting restless and it's like the pirates are waiting for something. They've dropped anchor and we're not moving."

The steward spoke quickly as he arranged their trays and then apologized, saying that he was being watched and had to leave.

"At least they're feeding us," Florian said as he placed his napkin in his lap.

"I don't like it." Azura was clearly frustrated. For a moment it looked like he might go into one of his rages, but he calmed himself and settled down to eat. The others relaxed a little and started eating too.

Laila had been permitted to remain in the room but she wasn't allowed at the table. She had to sit by herself with the tray resting on an end table. She was content with this arrangement, glad that she could enjoy her meal without Azura glaring at her. Still, it was a relief when the meal was over and she and Florian were dismissed to his rooms while Ray and Azura discussed their options.

Ray had given Florian the deck of cards and they spent a while playing. When they tired of that, Florian showed her how to build card houses and they created elaborate and flimsy structures and laughed when they fell down.

"Children, children," Ray teased as he joined them, stealing away the cards.

"We're bored," Florian complained, only partly joking. They'd been cooped up all day and he was feeling a bit seasick again. He didn't want anyone to know, because he didn't want to upset Azura. He was already dreading what the man would decide to do once boredom took over. Florian had experienced that before and it hadn't been pleasant.

"So read something, or play a game."

"We did."

"Then tell a story." He laughed at Florian's expression and turned to Laila. "Perhaps you would be willing to entertain us with a story?" When she looked uncertain he offered, "A song? A poem? Dancing?"

Laila looked shocked at the very suggestion, but it amused the men. Annoyed by their laughter, she agreed to a story.

"Something about the Queen?" Florian suggested. He liked myths and legends, although he hadn't had many opportunities to read any lately. His favorite ones he'd already memorized, but he was sure there were many he'd never heard.

"The Queen it is," Laila agreed, glad that she wasn't being asked about the Quartet. There was a good one she'd learned as a child that was likely to entertain both men as it was equal parts love story and daring quest.

"The Queen of Carthage was loved by all her citizens," she began, telling the story exactly the way her mother had told it to her. For a little while, she could forget being on a ship controlled by pirates and pretend that she was back home among her family, safe and loved.  
+++++

"Shouldn't have had the ham," Solomon thought as his stomach rumbled again. It was late and Noel and his father had already retired, but Solomon was feeling ill and couldn't settle down enough to sleep.

He hadn't traveled by ship often but the few other times he'd been fine – no seasickness at all. Even on this trip, he'd been fine until this evening. Although M. Tassel insisted the ship was fine, to Solomon it felt like they were being tossed around in a storm.

It was too dark to see anything from the porthole, and he didn't want to risk going up on deck. Instead, he took a blanket and pillow from the bed and tried to get comfortable in a chair.

His stomach rumbled again and he groaned. It was going to be a very long night.  
+++++

Someone was pounding on the door again. Azura was prepared this time, having chosen to remain fully dressed and doze in a chair rather than retiring to bed.

He checked to see that Florian, Laila and Ray were awake as well - he'd advised all of them to sleep in their clothing also.

Opening the door, he wasn't surprised to see the same steward, but the man looked more tired and worried than he had previously.

"All the passengers on this hall are to proceed to the first class dining room," he said nervously. From the sound in the hall it was clear that some of the other passengers were taking exception to being dragged from their beds in the middle of the night after being confined to their cabins all day.

"Of course," Azura said, checking his waist where his whip was coiled under his clothing. He also had a dagger strapped to his calf. He knew that Ray was similarly armed. Florian and Laila carried no weapons - the boy would be useless with one and the girl's loyalty was untested.

"Why are they taking us to the dining room?" Florian wondered.

"Probably so they can search our rooms," Ray told him. He suspected that Florian already knew the answer, but had asked the question as a way of making conversation. He was clearly nervous and trying to cover it.

Beside Florian, Laila seemed to be taking their situation calmly, and Ray and Azura were both thankful for that - it wouldn't do to have a hysterical servant on their hands. They'd need to be clearheaded and alert to take advantage of any opportunities for escape.

Entering the dining room with the rest of the group, they saw that some of the tables had been pushed aside and chairs had been arranged in rows. There were at least a dozen well-armed and masked men standing in the shadows along the edges of the room, watching as the stewards directed their charges towards chairs and then lined up along the wall.

There was a general grumble among the passengers as they tried to understand their situation. Some were quite offended and complained loudly while others were silently stoic. A few women were weeping - dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs and sniffling.

Azura was disgusted by the whole spectacle, but held his tongue and waited, expecting that there would be some kind of explanation forthcoming.

At a signal from one of the pirates, the stewards served cups of hot, sweet tea and shortbread cookies. Some of the passengers complained or asked for something else but the stewards just shook their heads in apology and remained silent. As they finished serving, they returned to their places along the wall.

At last one of the pirates stepped forward into the light and they could see that he was dressed in what appeared to be a tan uniform jacket with the symbol of a dagger in black embroidered over the left breast.

Laila had been allowed to stay with their group only because Florian insisted and now he was surprised to hear her let out a small gasp. He was glad for the distraction, because he almost gasped himself.

"Bring her," the pirate ordered, motioning for one of the stewards to bring Laila to the front of the room. Florian stood to block his way.

"Leave her alone," he insisted. "She's my servant and you don't have permission to touch her. He kept his eyes away from Azura as he claimed Laila, not wanting to see the man's expression. - He'd worry about the repercussions of his words later.

Ray glanced over at Azura and was surprised to see him smiling. Then he realized that Florian had provided a nice diversion – drawing attention to himself and away from the members of the group who were armed.

"Bring them both," the pirate demanded but Florian shook off the steward's hand and offered Laila his arm like a gentleman. She placed her hand on his arm, ignoring the disapproving murmurs of the rich businessmen and aristocrats who were shocked and affronted by seeing a servant treated like a lady.

Heads held high, Florian and Laila marched along their row of chairs and up the aisle to the pirate leader, stopping a short distance away when a second pirate put his sword in front of them as a barrier.

"Your name?" the pirate demanded, speaking to Florian.

"Florian du Rochefort." Florian adopted the formal posture he'd had drilled into him since childhood. He met the pirate's eyes bravely, treating him as if he were a peer, not someone to defer to. "And this is Laila. Please refrain from touching her without my permission."

The pirate was not amused. He carried a pistol and pressed it against Florian's chest right over his heart.

"You are in no position to make demands."

"That may be, but I will not permit you to harm her." Florian's voice was rock steady and he didn't flinch at all from the pistol. The passengers watching were either impressed by his bravery or convinced he was going to be dead in the next few minutes. One of the weeping women let out a wail and fainted.

Ray was twitching in his seat but Azura placed a hand on his leg to steady him. Any sudden moves might just set the pirate off and Florian would be dead in seconds.

"If you are after valuables, then say so. I don't believe anyone here would risk their lives for gold or jewels." Behind him several passengers raised their voices in agreement.

"And if we seek something else?" The pirate challenged, still holding the pistol firm. "What then?"

"Then I would ask what you seek and help you find it if I could as long as it would not cause anyone harm."

"Who are you to determine what may or may not cause harm? An arrogant man sees only the clouds."

"But a humble man knows well the color of his shoes," Florian replied easily, the words of an oft-repeated proverb spoken without prompting. His mother had spoken it to him and made him repeat the exchange, and its older variant, until they were an automatic response. He hadn't thought about the phrase in months, but now the reply came without hesitation.

He didn't have time to wonder why a pirate would chose those words before the pistol was turned and he was struck senseless. The last thing he heard was Laila's scream.  
+++++

"We're on a rescue mission," Noel announced as he burst into Solomon's room towing his father along in his wake. "The captain said there's a ship in trouble because of pirates and we're going to help."

Solomon nodded at Noel, letting him know he was impressed by the boy's news. Then he looked up at Noel's father and asked for more details.

"The captain received a distress call from a ship bound for Carthage. They were boarded by pirates and one of the crew managed to send out the distress before communications were cut off. Other ships are responding too, but we're the closest."

"The captain says we'll be there sometime tomorrow so we have to get ready to fight pirates." Noel danced around the room swinging his arm in an imaginary swordfight. His father let him go, collapsing into the chair beside Solomon.

"My sword fighting skills are rusty," Tassel confessed.

"I never had any," Solomon offered in return. He reached over and took up the decanter of whiskey and two glasses, pouring a measure in both and offering one to the other man. They toasted each other silently and watched as Noel took on a horde of pirates, then swiftly defeated every one by bashing them with Betty Deux.

"With Noel and the bear on our side," Tassel said. "The pirates don't stand a chance." Solomon nodded in agreement and took another drink.  
+++++

Florian woke with a headache. He groaned and shifted onto his side without opening his eyes. He was about to drift off again when someone prodded him with a shoe.

"Mother?" he mumbled as he opened his eyes. He winced against the bright light and wondered if Laila had any potions for head pain.

"Get up," someone snarled and a moment later two pairs of hands yanked him upright. Florian listed to one side, but the hands kept him from falling.

Blurry images slowly resolved into shapes - pirate shapes. Florian swayed again and blinked rapidly until his vision settled again and he could look for Laila.

"The girl is here," the pirate leader told him. The man approached slowly, studying Florian and measuring how much of a threat he posed. Deciding he was harmless in his present condition, he gestured for a chair to be brought and for Florian to be seated. Only then did he call for Laila to be brought forward. Her hands were tied and she looked exhausted, but otherwise unharmed.

Squinting to try and focus, Florian realized that there were two more figures against the wall - Azura and Ray. The men were also bound and Ray had a nasty bruise on his temple similar to the one Florian expected was on his own head.

He was on his feet before he realized what he was going to do. Strong hands stopped him, pushing him back into the chair and binding him with thick ropes.

"What do you want with us?" Florian demanded. His head was pounding and he was worried about Laila and the others. He didn't know what had happened to the other passengers who had been in the room with them. 

"I'll be asking the questions," the pirate leader said as he stepped forward so that Florian had to tilt his head to look up at his face. "We'll start with asking why you are going to Carthage."

"To see the city. I've never been there."

"So you're just a groups of tourists?" The man motioned for a table to be brought closer and then waited as an array of papers, books and maps were spread out across the surface - all the items Azura had hidden so carefully.

"They're old papers and maps. My associate has an interest in history."

"But you don't?"

"It's interesting. I prefer folklore."

"And music?" The man motioned again and Florian's small harp was placed on the table. Florian reached for it immediately, forgetting that his hands were tied.

"Please don't damage that; it was a gift."

"Answer my questions and all of your belongings will be returned."

"And my friends? You promise not to harm them?" Florian pleaded. He already knew that the secret he carried - the one he had vowed never to reveal - would be traded to safeguard the others. Perhaps it didn't matter anyway - with his family gone what was the use of safeguarding an old legend.

"If you cooperate, they will not be harmed."

"Then ask your questions and I will answer them to the best of my ability."

"Very well, Florian du Rochefort. If I say this to you: An arrogant man sees only the clouds. How do you respond?"

"By saying: But a humble man knows well the shape of his feet. Florian used the older variant of the phrase, he'd used the version referencing shoes before, but he suspected the older one was more appropriate in this situation.

"And if I were to say: The sound of a harp is on the wind; the sun shines on the earth."

"Water helps to grow the tree and the dagger is forged in fire." Florian recited another of his ancient rhymes - which didn't actually rhyme. He glanced towards Laila when he heard her gasp softly.

"Bring her here," the pirate leader ordered. Laila was placed on a chair next to Florian.

"You recognize this, don't you, girl?" The pirate leader pointed to the dagger emblem he wore. "And you?" he asked Florian. They both exchanged a look before nodding. "Explain yourself then, girl."

"Her name is Laila," Florian said coldly. He hated it when Azura called him 'boy' - it was demeaning and meant to belittle him. Florian didn't want this criminal to belittle his friend.

"Laila then." The pirate seemed more amused than annoyed but the others were still watching everything, holding their weapons at the ready.

"M..my family. Clan. A few of them wear the dagger." Laila was trembling, wondering how much she was going to have to reveal and how angry Florian, Count Courland and her master would be when they realized she'd been withholding information from them.

The man took her hands and examined them carefully before letting her go with a smile.

"You're a healer."

"Not.. not yet, sir. I haven't had my ceremony yet." For some reason, making that confession in front of so many strangers made her want to weep. She bit her lip hard, using the pain to distract herself so she wouldn't cry. She wanted to go home.

"Are you not past the age?" The question was asked softly and with compassion. It made it even harder for Laila to fight back her tears.

"I was taken just a few weeks before my ceremony." Laila glanced at Florian who was struggling against his bonds, clearly wanting to shield and comfort her. She wasn't expecting to see the flash of silver and feel her bonds slip free.

"Relax, kindred child," the pirate said as she quickly rubbed her eyes. "We'll do you no harm. We're here to find the ones who stole the ancient text and make sure they do not find the items they are seeking." He turned his attention to Florian.

"You, my friend, are a surprise. I would not expect to find a protector allied with thieves."

"You're the thieves," Florian sputtered. “You've hijacked this ship and terrorized the passengers. Now you're holding us hostage for some bits of old paper and a legend."

"Don't presume to lecture me. You know the riddle keys but you behave as if you are ignorant of their meaning."

"I know the meaning," Florian protested angrily. "It has nothing to do with you, or Carthage."

"You are either ignorant or a fool." The pirate stepped back, motioning his men forward. "Strip him."

"No!" Ray, Laila and Florian all protested at once but it didn't stop the pirates from carrying out their orders. They cut his bindings and pulled him to his feet before slicing away at fine fabric and scattering mother of pearl buttons. 

Laila quickly turned away, more for Florian's sake than her own – it wasn't like she hadn't seen him naked when tending his wounds. But she knew how much it embarrassed him to be like that - especially in front of strangers.

"Stop!" Florian shouted, putting up his hand to try and preserve some of his clothing. "I'll do it." He quickly removed the damaged vest and shirt then removed his undershirt. After that he stepped out of his shoes and bent down to remove his socks. The trousers and underwear were taken off together leaving him shivering slightly and blushing pink to the tips of his ears.

Bringing over a candle for better light, two of the pirates examined him from the soles of his feet up to the top of his head, turning back to their leader to report that they'd found nothing other than bruises and the carved initials RC on his back.

"Impossible," the leader said, studying Florian intently. He walked around him slowly, pausing for a long time to study the letters on Florian’s back. On his second circuit around Florian he stopped behind him again. He put both hands on Florian’s shoulders and pressed him down.

"On your knees," he ordered, keeping his hands in place until Florian complied. "Head bowed."

Florian obeyed, shivering in the cool room, He pulled his undershirt off the chair and used it to cover his genitals.

"Are you a humble man, Florian du Rochefort?" the leader asked, his right hand resting heavily on the top of Florian's head while his left hand rested at the back of Florian's neck keeping Florian's head bowed in a pose of submission. "Shall we see just how humble you are?"

Across the room, Azura was watching intently, making connections between little bits of information he'd read or heard. Beside him, Ray was raging at the pirates, and struggling to get loose. It was distracting and Azura wished he would stop. He'd say something to Ray himself, but didn't want to draw attention; better that they focus on Ray and Florian for now and give Azura time to plan. His thoughts nearly left him when the pirate leader called out to his men.

"Bring me a knife."  
+++++


	10. Chapter 10

Ray knew Azura was planning something, but he had no idea what it was. His only concern at the moment was getting free of his bonds and getting to Florian before something terrible happened.

He'd managed to work most of one hand free and was trying frantically to finish the job without drawing attention to his actions. He cast a glance at Azura and wasn't surprised to see the dull gleam of a small knife.

When Florian was knocked unconscious the room had erupted into chaos with men shouting and women screaming. The pirate leader had ordered some of his crew to return the other passengers to their cabins and the stewards to the second class dining area.

There had been complaints and tears as the passengers were removed, but Ray, Azura and Laila had been restrained and placed against the wall to wait for Florian to revive. Ray had taken a blow to the head to stop him from getting to Florian. He’d been dazed for a short while, but thankfully his head was clearing.

Ray had done his best to reassure Laila that Florian would be fine, but he hadn't completely believed it himself - he had no idea what these pirates wanted. If this was a regular pirate raid, they'd have been searched much more thoroughly and relieved of wallets and watches, but instead, the leader demanded their cabin numbers and sent his men off to search.

Azura had been tense beside him, waiting until the men returned. When he realized that they'd found every one of his hiding places and all of the documents and books he'd wanted to conceal, Azura was furious.

Ray had known the man long enough to know that he wouldn't do anything impulsive to draw attention to the materials. Azura would wait and plan, watching for any opportunity to get free and take back his belongings. It was less certain that Azura would make any effort to save the rest of his associates.

The pirate leader certainly seemed to think Florian was concealing important information. Ray suspected it was something to do with the famous Rochefort diamond, the Queen's Flame, but he wouldn't have been completely surprised to find that it was something else instead. The Rocheforts were an ancient family line, there was likely to be a more than one long held secret.

He wondered how annoyed Azura would be when he discovered Florian's connection to their quest. True, Azura wanted a flask, not a diamond, but Ray didn't think the matter would be let go. The sooner he got Florian away from Azura, the better it would be for all of them.

A soft snap brought his attention back to Azura. The last of his ropes had been cut and after hiding the knife, he was apparently holding them in place to make it seem as if he was still bound. Ray suppressed a surge of irritation that Azura hadn't at least passed him the knife. Well, he'd just consider this good practice - he never knew when Noir might have to wriggle out of rope bindings.

Ray had freed himself and was waiting for the right moment to charge his guard when the pirate leader was handed a knife. The man stood behind Florian, legs braced against Florian's back and placed one hand on his head. The hand with the knife was raised, the blade catching the light.

As the pirate leader brought the knife down, Laila cried out and lunged forward. Ray used the momentary confusion to charge towards Florian. He evaded several attempts to stop him and reached Florian's side just as the first lock of white-gold hair fell.

Ray barely felt the sword point at his back as he dropped to his knees to try and shield Florian. He pulled the man into an embrace while shoving hard against the pirate leader's legs.

There was a moment of confusion and a cry of distress from Laila as the three men fell in a tangle, the knife still held in the pirate's grasp.

Five pirates surrounded them, swords pointed menacingly at Ray and Florian. Slowly they untangled themselves and knelt on the floor together as directed while the leader righted himself.

"Since you have an objection to shaving this man's head," the leader said as he moved around to stand in front of the pair. "You may do the honors." He was about to hand Ray the knife, then added. "If you do anything other than shave his head, you will both be killed."

Ray nodded his understanding before accepting the knife. He stayed on his knees, turning towards Florian. He set the knife down for a moment and removed his jacket, draping it over Florian's shoulders.

"I'll be careful, but you need to stay very still."

Florian bit his lip and nodded, lowering his head again. Ray picked up the knife and gently ran it along the side of Florian's head beside his ear. Florian shivered but stayed still. Ray tried again, just above the first stripe. More strands of hair fell.

He worked quickly with neat, short strokes, taking small clumps of hair with each pass. Soon he had finished the edges and was working towards the crown of Florian's head. He was almost there when he found something unexpected.

"Is that a tattoo?" he asked. It was dark brown and small - a symbol of a dagger just like the emblem the pirates wore.

"Yes," Florian said meekly. His secret was out and he felt a strange sense of relief. He wasn't happy about having his head shaved, however.

"Are there more?" Ray wondered.

"There should be one more - isn't that right, Florian du Rochefort? On the other side there should be the symbol of a harp."

"Yes," Florian said just as meekly. His eyes strayed towards Azura and he almost flinched at the threat in that man's eyes. If they ever got out of this, Azura was going to punish him severely.

"Relax," Ray said softly, placing a hand on Florian's shoulder as much for comfort as to remind him to remain steady. "We'll face Azura together."

When the last of Florian's head was bare, he bowed his head even farther and let the pirate leader take a good look at the two symbols he'd borne since he was a young child. It was a family tradition to mark each male child with these symbols - although he hadn't known that until he accepted his title and was allowed to read the secret family history.

"You're one of my clan!" Laila cried, having done her best to stay silent while Florian's head was being shaved. Now that the knife was safely away from her friend's head she couldn't stay silent any longer.

"You think we're related?" Florian asked. The pirate leader laughed.

"Perhaps not related by blood but certainly by a bond. Legend tells of a pair of men who came to the city of Carthage after having been betrayed by members of their own party. The men were near death but the Queen ordered them treated and after a long recovery, they were ready to return home. The night before they were to depart, there was an attack on the city. The men fought alongside the citizens and saved the Queen's healer and one of her Advisors. To reward them for their bravery, the Queen offered them the choice to stay in the city with land and enough wealth to last them the rest of their lives, or to leave with many chests of treasure.

"One of them chose to stay and the other left to return to his family home. After a few years, there was concern about the safety of the Queen's treasures and the advisor who had been saved by the strangers came to the one who remained and asked him to take one of those treasures in secret and carry it back to his country where he and his descendants would safeguard it.

"After consideration, the stranger agreed and with much planning he was able to leave the city, arrive at the treasure's hiding place and take it away. Soon after the advisor - the only one who knew what had happened to the treasure - died taking the secret with him until years later when a trusted servant in the stranger's house told this story to his son and begged that it be written down and shared with the teachers so that when the time was right, the treasure would be recovered.

"The stranger was marked before he left and promised that every one of his descendants would bear the same marks so that they could be identified. "

"Why the dagger and the harp?" Laila asked. "I thought a person was only allowed to carry one of the marks."

"The dagger is worn by the protectors - that part is obvious, but the harp represents teachers. The stranger taught our people many things. Perhaps it was hoped that one of his clan would return some day and share more of their ways. Some of the mixtures our healers use were taught to us by the strangers."

The pirate leader leaned down to Florian and put a hand under his chin, looking directly into his eyes.

"Tell me, Florian du Rochefort who wears the marks of a protector and a teacher, will you follow the path of your ancestor or will you die?"

"The item my ancestor promised to safeguard is still safely hidden. I have no knowledge of the other items, nor do I wish to possess them." Florian felt the weight of his long-held secret lift now that the true story was known. Over the years his family had fabricated a second origin story for the diamond – about betrayals and the murder of a Sultan’s daughter. It had been done to add another layer of protection for the Queen’s Flame but over time, most of the family had forgotten the real story and only remembered the false one. Even Florian’s mother didn’t know the truth and that had been a heavy burden on his heart.

"Rise, Florian du Rochefort, and I will greet you as kin." The pirate leader’s happy greeting brought Florian back to the present. He nodded his thanks, especially when the pirate turned to one of his crew and ordered that he bring fresh clothing for Florian.

While they waited, Ray pulled Florian to his feet and helped him into his undamaged pants, socks and shoes. Ray chaffed Florian’s wrists to restore circulation, using that as an excuse to hold in close and share some of his warmth. Florian's skin was like ice and his lips were blue at the edges.

"You're my kin too," Laila told Florian. She was delighted by the idea of having him as a big brother - she already had practice taking care of him and teasing him. "You'll have to meet my whole family."

"I'd like that," Florian said, smiling, although he was feeling a little overwhelmed by everything. And his scalp itched.

Thankfully the pirate arrived with some of Florian's own clothes and Florian dressed faster than he ever had in his life. He was much happier to be clothed and could already feel himself warming up. If he could convince the leader to ask someone for hot tea and perhaps something to eat, he was sure he'd feel much better.

He felt a wave of relief pass through him and he staggered against Ray, who caught him and held on until he was steady on his feet again.

"Kinsmen, may I ask for some tea for my friends?" Laila asked, realizing that the pain of the blow to the head and then the stress of everything that had happened afterwards had probably made Florian ill. Since she didn't want to leave him to retrieve her potions, tea would be the best alternative.

Before anyone could respond to her request, one of the pirates called out and they all turned towards him. It took a moment to realize his distress but it was soon clear to everyone - Azura had escaped.  
+++++

Azura slipped away in the confusion, taking advantage of his captor's overconfidence. He had an excellent memory and put it to good use now as he made his way to the deck by the servant's access ways. He had to hide a few times to dodge pirates patrolling, but after watching for a time he was able to determine their routine. It helped that it was a rainy day and there were plenty of shadows to conceal his movement.

He found a butler's pantry and helped himself to some bread and cheese, bypassing more interesting food for the basics - items that would travel well. He also took a bottle of wine, knowing it could serve as a weapon in an emergency. He was tempted to go back to his room and retrieve his weapons but knew that would be guarded. Instead, he'd make do with his whip and the small knife he carried and would buy something more useful once he was safely ashore. With those decisions and arrangements made, he continued on his way to the deck.

He made it to the lifeboat and lowered it as quickly as he dared, glad that it didn't make too much noise. It was awkward doing it by himself, but finally he was in the water and pushing away from the ship. He paddled smoothly, not wanting to alert anyone to his escape.

He was in open water now, just far enough away from the ship to be faintly visible. He judged the coast to be off to his right and set the boat in that direction.

He was almost convinced he had made it when the alarm was raised.  
+++++

"We're heroes!" Noel cheered as they neared the other ship. There were a lot of people on deck waving and Noel waved back enthusiastically.

"We can't go over there," Tassel reminded his son.

"I know, we have to stay here and make sure none of the pirates sneak onto this ship."

"That's right," Solomon confirmed. "If you'll excuse me a moment, I'll see if I can get any more information."

The ship's crew were doing their best to keep the passengers occupied and to answer what questions they could, but there was a lot of confusion on deck and it took Solomon a while to get through it to a crewmember.

"Can you tell me what is happening on the other ship?" he asked the harassed looking crewman.

"The ship is secure sir. The pirates are gone and the passengers are unharmed." The way the man said it made Solomon wonder if there was something he wasn't being told. On impulse he asked one more question.

"Can you tell me if Florian du Rochefort is onboard that ship?" He wasn't sure why he even asked - as far as he knew, Florian was in Morocco.

The crewmember's polite smile slipped for a moment, revealing nervousness and discomfort. He stammered and then spoke in a low tone that required Solomon to lean closer.

"You'll need to see the captain, sir. If you'll come with me..." he turned and led the way through the confusion to the bridge where the crewman spoke to several officers before Solomon was taken to the captain himself.

"You're an acquaintance of M. du Rochefort?"

"I am." He held out his hand in greeting. "Solomon Sugar, sir. I've been sent by Florian's mother with an urgent message. If you know of his whereabouts?"

"I do. But this is not for the rest of the passengers to know, you understand. M du Rochefort and his companions - Count Courland and M Romwell as well as one of their servants were taken by the pirates when they left the ship a few hours before we arrived."

"Is anything being done to find them?"

"We're putting together a rescue party, but there isn't a lot of reliable information. They only clue we have is that one of the stewards overheard a mention of Carthage."

"I'll like to join the rescue party."

"I'm not certain that's a good idea."

"I am a trained detective," Solomon stated calmly. He wasn't about to let Florian be taken away when he was this close to fulfilling his promise to Florian's mother." He could see the captain wavering – he had more concerns than chasing pirates and a few missing passengers. "I won't take no for an answer, Captain. I'll follow on my own if I must."

"Fine, fine. But you must take your belongings or entrust them to one of the other passengers. And, we are not responsible for your safety. If you choose to do this, you are responsible for yourself."

"Agreed. Thank you, sir." He took his leave, hurrying back to his traveling companions. Noel was upset that he was leaving, but M Tassel understood and tried to calm his son.

"I will see you again. Perhaps we can even return to France on the same ship," Solomon offered, trying to comfort the boy. He had to admit he would miss the cheerful child.

Quickly packing a few belongings, Solomon arrived on deck as the other members of the rescue party - six in all counting Solomon – were getting last minute instructions from the captain himself.

"I've made arrangement with the authorities in the nearest town. You'll be going directly there and receive your instructions. If they have enough personnel and you are not needed for the rescue efforts you are to report here. Otherwise, we will meet you in Carthage in one week's time."

The men were dismissed to climb aboard one of the lifeboats. Solomon thanked the captain again and joined the others in the small boat. He introduced himself around and greeted the other men, noting that none of them were happy with his presence. He was glad that the shore wasn't too far away and he'd be out of this boat and on land soon.  
+++++

Laila sat beside Florian and ran her hand over his forehead. He was lying down on a hard bed and trying not to think about his stomach or seasickness. Laila wished that she had taken the time to go back to the cabin and get her potions, but it was too late for that. She just hoped they'd land soon.

Once they realized that Azura had gotten away, the pirates - she still thought of them like that even though they weren't really pirates – returned all of their belongings including the notes, maps and Florian's harp, and hurried to follow Azura.

"How is he?" Ray asked as he entered the captain's cabin where Florian was resting. Florian had been doing well until they'd settled aboard the small ship and set sail as fast as the wind and their oars would carry them. The sudden motion along with all the excitement of the previous hours had proven too much. Florian had turned an interesting shade of green and spent the next ten minutes heaving over the side of the ship.

"He's in need of some tea and a nap, preferably on solid ground," Florian offered with a weak smile. "How are you?"

"Fine." Ray rested a hand on Florian's shoulder. "Rest. I'll call you when we're ready to land so you can freshen up."

He waited for Florian to close his eyes and then motioned for Laila to join him. Together they quietly left the cabin and joined the pirate leader, whose name they finally learned, was Marcus.

"We've been looking over the maps and notes," Marcus explained. "Ray tells me that your associate is looking for the Queen's Tears, which is in this direction." He traced a large circle on the map he was using - large enough that he wasn't actually giving away any useful information. "But none of the material he has here tells him that directly." He looked up at Ray. "You said that he was intending to start in the temple ruins at Carthage and use the clues to find his way from there?"

"Yes, he was hoping that there would be something there that, combined with the hints in the riddle, would guide him to the treasure." Ray searched his memory for any other possibilities, but knew that the ruins were their best starting point.

"So we need to get to the ruins before he does and wait for him," Laila interjected. She frowned and added," He has a head start."

"Not by much. We'll be there before him, don't worry."

Laila nodded, accepting his word easily. She was so glad to be with a kinsman and on her way home that she easily brushed aside any anxiousness. If everything went well, she'd be with her family by tomorrow.  
+++++

Azura leaned back in the shadows and watched as Ray and Florian arrived at the ruins. He had spent the last two days since escaping from the ship preparing for this. His anger had been honed and refined and was now focused almost exclusively on Florian.

The boy had lied to him about the diamond, Azura could accept that. But he had also withheld that diamond’s connection – and his own – to the treasure Azura wanted. That was a sin Azura would not forgive. 

Watching Florian and Ray huddle together as they consulted a paper that had to be a copy of the riddle, Azura smiled coldly. It would soon be time for him to make his move and when he did, he’d have his treasure, and his revenge.  
+++++

“Take this.” Laila pushed a small clay figure into Florian’s hand. It was the one she’d made while at Azura’s to use as a remembrance. “It will protect you.” She wasn’t at all happy with the plan Marcus and Ray had some up with to bring Azura out of hiding. They’d decided to use Florian and Ray as a lure, pretending that the two men were using Azura’s riddle to find the Queen’s Tears in a hidden chamber in the temple ruins. They had modified Ray’s gold flask to resemble the legendary artifact – distressing it and adding carvings to match the legend. They’d even filled it with one of Laila’s herbal concoctions. It wouldn’t fool anyone for long, certainly not Azura, but it might distract him long enough for them to get him out of Carthage.

Marcus had promised that no harm would come to Azura, only that he’d be sent out of the city and banned from returning. By giving Azura the artifact, even though it was a fake, Ray’s agreement would technically be completed and Florian would become his. 

Ray didn’t believe it would be as easy as Marcus thought it would be, but he went along, making sure that there were measures taken to ensure Florian’s safety. Laila would remain safely out of the way with some of the other protectors.

When they were satisfied that they had done all they could to prepare, Ray, Marcus and the others set out for the temple ruins. One of Marcus’ men had already planted a few clues that led to a secret chamber where the gold flask had been hidden. They’d been careful to match the clues to items in the riddle so it could appear as if Ray had simply misread it.

Marcus had also made arrangements with the local law enforcement to keep people away from the ruins so that no bystanders would accidently walk into what might be a dangerous situation.

“Ready?” Ray asked Florian. He wanted to kiss him, to give them both some reassurance, but it couldn’t be done in front of so many people. Instead, Florian reached out and rested a hand on Ray’s arm.

“Ready,” Florian assured him, managing a smile. He looked towards Marcus and Laila, nodding once before setting off, Ray at his side, the riddle and Laila’s clay figure in his jacket pocket.  
+++++

It was easy enough to follow Ray and Florian unseen, there were plenty of shadows and convenient recesses. There was also a suspicious lack of people wandering the ruins and Azura was wary. He knew they were expecting him to try for the treasure. The question was whether they had actually found something, or were just laying a trap for him.

Azura rested a hand on the handle of his whip and then checked the dagger he carried. He had a small knife in his boot, but that was to be saved as a last resort.

Ray was leaning in close to examine something behind a carved column and Florian was standing beside him, completely exposed. It was tempting just to eliminate the man now, but Azura calmed the impulse. Florian might prove useful yet and Azura wasn’t one to cast aside anything that would give him an advantage in getting what he wanted. He shifted back, farther into the shadows and waited, following along silently as the two men led him to what he hoped was the prize.  
+++++

Ray could feel Azura’s eyes on him as he moved through the clues. He’d been given a vague description of what he was looking for – but only enough to make sure he didn’t miss something important. The details had been left for him and Florian to discover – a way of making their efforts look more authentic in case Azura was watching.

Ray knew his old friend would be there in the ruins and he wasn’t disappointed, although this was one time he would have been glad to be proven wrong. He worked hard to play his role – that of someone on alert and expecting trouble but who didn’t know for certain that he was being watched.

Florian was proving to be a help with that – his interest and enthusiasm for following the clues, even though they were fake – was making it much easier for Ray to pretend. By the time they’d found and interpreted the third of four clues he was even beginning to catch a little of Florian’s excitement.

Reaching what he expected would be the entrance to the secret chamber, Ray sobered again. He took a quick, covert look around them as he searched for the latch. He couldn’t stop the smile that lit his face when the rock wall gave way, sliding aside and revealing a hidden chamber inside.

One last look around and Ray went in, knowing that the Azura would be joining them very soon.

“Is that it?” Florian asked in a low voice, lifting his lantern up to reveal a cobweb-covered altar with a gold flask set into a recess near the top. He reached for it, but Ray stopped him by grabbing his hand.

Florian was about to object when he caught the warning in Ray’s eyes.

“Are there traps?” he asked nervously. He was caught up in the excitement of their quest and had almost forgotten that this was being staged for Azura’s benefit.

“There usually are,” Ray replied, studying the altar. He took out his knife and prodded at a small projection near the flask, pushing himself and Florian back as a set of small darts thudded off the rock where his hand would have been.

“Poisoned,” Ray commented, noting that Florian remained a step back from the artifact. Ray continued to study it, most of his concentration on the puzzle, but a small portion on the doorway behind them. He used his knife again and pressed another bit of rock. This time there was a shudder, like a small tremor, and the flask slid forward and dropped neatly into his hand.

Before he could even turn to show Florian, a whip snaked between them, coiled around the flask and pulled it backwards. At the same time, Florian let out a cry and was pulled back as well.

“Nicely done,” Azura congratulated Ray as he pocketed the flask, traded the whip for a dagger, and pulled Florian towards the exit. “We’ll have to visit again soon,” he said as he backed out of the small chamber and pressed the release, leaving Ray inside.  
+++++


	11. Chapter 11

Ray knew there was no reason to panic. He knew the approximate location of the door release and he knew that Marcus and the other protectors would watch out for Florian. 

Unfortunately, none of that made him feel any better as he fumbled for the latch and cursed under his breath when it seemed to be taking too long.

Finally there was a click and the passage opened. Ray raced out into the more open area, looking around frantically and trying to decide where Azura had taken Florian. Using instinct, he picked a direction and raced off.  
+++++

"You've been worthless from the start," Azura hissed, pulling Florian along with him as he backed away from Ray. He held a stolen dagger against Florian's back to keep the man from trying to get away.

Dragging Florian into another chamber, Azura directed him to secure his own hands with his necktie then tightened the binding. Florian complied meekly, knowing that Azura was not making an idle threat with the knife. One thrust was all it would take, and Florian wasn't going to give him any reason to do it.

Ray hadn’t caught them yet and the others were out of sight but Florian could hear the low murmur of their whispers as they searched for him. He hoped they would do something soon - the anger was radiating off of Azura like a fire and Florian didn't think it would take much to set him off.

Soft footsteps approached and Azura's grip tightened. Florian could feel the knife piercing the surface of his skin and did his best to remain perfectly still.

"Let Florian go." Ray made it an appeal, not a command, but it didn't make any difference to Azura.

"Give me safe passage with the flask. Once I am free of these ruins and have guaranteed safe passage, I will let the boy go."

"Marcus, the man we thought was a pirate leader is offering one of his men in place of Florian. He can escort you to the harbor and get you safely on a ship back to Morocco. He’ll be of much more use to you than Florian."

"True, but Florian is not expendable - to you. He goes with me. If you don't want to see him dead, then you will convince the others to cooperate."

"They can't do that. If they break their oath to protect the flask, they die." Ray tried to appeal to his old friend, but at the same time, he was frantically studying the chamber Azura was in. It was a narrow room with open access at both ends. There was a worn column just a few steps behind Azura that looked like it would give way with just the right amount of force. Slowly, Ray felt for the handle of his whip.

"And if they do not break their oath, Florian dies. Tell me, Ray, why do you even care what happens to this boy? Before I invited you to Morocco, you didn't even know of his existence. Now you are ready to give up one of the great treasures of the ancient world to save him. Surely there are other pretty boys to suit your tastes? Ones that are more... durable than this pathetic creature." Azura emphasized his point by pressing the dagger deeper into Florian's skin, drawing blood.

"Don't give in to him. You have to find a way to get the Queen’s Tears back," Florian insisted. He bit back a cry as the dagger was withdrawn for a second, then pressed in again closer to his spine. He tried to keep his expression neutral so Ray wouldn't know what was happening. He couldn't stand the thought of someone getting hurt because of him.

A faint sound in the distance made Azura turn his head and the momentary distraction was all Ray needed to free his whip and strike out with deadly accuracy.

Azura turned back, pushing the dagger forward just as Florian shifted and let go with a wild two-handed swing at Azura. The dagger cut across his back and into his side in a long thin slice and the two men together fell sideways against the rock wall of the chamber. In front of them, Ray was pulling hard on his whip, trying to dislodge the column. A second pair of hands – Marcus - grabbed on and between the two of them, they shifted the loose rock enough to send the column tumbling.

Realizing what was happening, Azura shoved Florian towards the men to slow their pursuit and ran for the other exit. He was just past the column when the ceiling gave and rocks rained down on all of them.  
+++++

Laila screamed as the rumble started and the rocks buried her friends. She and the other men that had accompanied Marcus started in immediately, tossing rubble aside to find those who were buried underneath.

Thankfully, Ray and Marcus had been far enough back that they were easily freed. Other than some bumps and bruises, they seemed unhurt. It was Florian that Laila was really worried about. She knew she should be at least a little concerned about Azura too, but she'd think about him once Florian was safe.

"Here!" Ray shouted as he pushed aside a huge rock to reveal a flash of pale skin. The others moved in and within minutes, the unconscious man was freed. They moved him carefully to a shaded spot outside and left Laila to tend him while they returned to keep looking for Azura.

It was nearly two hours later when they finally admitted defeat. They were exhausted and filthy from moving rocks but they'd found no sign of the man. He was either well buried or he had somehow managed to escape out the far exit in the confusion.

A small part of Ray hoped that he had escaped - that he would go back to Morocco, accept the flask he’d taken as the ancient artifact, and forget about Florian. It was pleasant to think that it could be that simple.  
+++++

Laila was waiting along with two women and a man when Ray returned. Florian was still unconscious, but he had been cleaned up and his wounds bandaged.

"My family and clan," Laila introduced her relatives to Ray, then handed him the bowl and cloth she'd been holding. There was a cool, fragrant liquid in the bowl and she'd been dipping the cloth into it and then pressing the cloth against Florian's lips.

"Is there somewhere we can take him?" Ray asked. "A hospital?"

"No need for that. Father insists that you come to our home - we can tend to him as well as any hospital."

What of Marcus and the others?"

"They still have work to do - they must meet with the other protectors and tell them what has happened. Also, someone has to report Azura missing."

"I can do that," Ray offered. He wasn't looking forward to the questions he'd have to answer, but he felt it was his duty. Laila's answer surprised him.

"No, it's better if Marcus handles it. There are some who are aware of the function of the protectors. He will explain it to them and they will do what needs to be done." 

"Fine. Shall we go then?" He lifted Florian in his arms, surprised that he wasn't heavier. He placed the unconscious man in the cart and was smoothing his clothing when he realized that there was something in Florian’s pocket. He extracted the item and smiled. 

Tucking the modified flask into his own pocket, Ray climbed into the cart beside Florian and held on for a bumpy ride.  
+++++

Solomon had never been so glad to see dry land in all his life. He stumbled out of the boat and had to catch the shoulder of one of the rescue party to keep from falling.

"All right there?" the man asked, smiling a little at Solomon's awkwardness.

"Fine, thanks. Just a bit cramped."

The man nodded and joined the rest of his men as they headed towards the nearest police station. Solomon trailed along behind them, looking around as they went. It had taken them hours of travel to get here but they were finally in Carthage and he was hoping a bit of luck would finally bring him face to face with Florian Rochefort.

He'd managed to form tentative friendships with the crewmen who made up the rescue party. They weren't a talkative lot, but they had a sense of humor and liked to sing so they'd passed a few hours teaching Solomon some new songs - only a few of which could be sung in polite company.

Now, as they walked up from the shore, Solomon had the sense that something important was about to happen. He was still feeling that way when he was almost run over by a cart.  
+++++

Florian moaned and tried to push away the thing that was sitting on his forehead. He felt hot and his head was throbbing. When the thing didn't move, he slowly opened his eyes, blinking hard against the light.

"Shhh. Lie still," a woman's soft voice told him. Maybe it was his grandmother? He closed his eyes again and started slipping away. He was almost back in the peaceful darkness when someone picked up his hand and squeezed it lightly. Why would his grandmother do that?

He opened his eyes again, frowning in confusion when he didn't see his mother or his grandmother anywhere. There was an older woman smiling at him, and Laila, and a man who... Ray!

Florian sat up quickly - too quickly - and had to be caught before he pitched over onto his side. He realized his mistake immediately and moaned at the head crushing pain.

"Not such a good idea," Ray said as he shifted a little to brace Florian against his side. He placed his arm around Florian's back, being careful of his bandages.

"Mmmppfff." Florian retorted, eyes closing again.

"Up up up," Ray insisted, being a bit obnoxious to cover his concern. The method also served to irritate Florian enough to make him open his eyes again.

"Head hurts. Back hurts," he said mournfully. "You're no help."

"I am too. I'm keeping you from falling over."

"Oh." Florian considered that for a long time before adding, "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now let me help you get cleaned up and you can come meet Laila's family properly and then have something to eat."

Florian wasn't sure he liked the idea of food, or of meeting lots of people, but being clean sounded wonderful so he let Ray pull him to his feet and help guide him into the bathroom where he relieved himself and then made himself as presentable as he could in dirt and blood smeared clothing.

There was a bowl of hearty vegetable soup and thick slices of bread waiting for them when they emerged but Florian refused to sit until he had met everyone at the table. He was delighted to see how much Laila resembled her relatives.

The soup was a great help for making him feel better as was the spoonful of green liquid that Laila fed him beforehand.

Conversation was light and involved a lot of amusing stories about Laila's exploits as a child interspersed with a few of Ray's adventures and Florian's tales of parties in Paris. When the meal was finished and the table cleared, Laila's uncle excused himself and returned a short time later with Marcus.

"There's been nothing new in the search for Azura, but I wanted to check on you both and explain a few things. Laila and Florian, you may already know some of this as a healer and a protector, but Ray, we've decided that you deserve to know too."

"The Queen's Quartet still exists, and the protectors still actively guard each of the items. There is a separate clan assigned to safeguard each of the four items and only the leader of each clan has any knowledge of the existence of the other three treasures. My clan is responsible for the Queen's Tears. Florian's family guards the Queen's Flame. I know very little about the two remaining treasures."

"So the Queen's Flame is the treasure that was rumored to be lost?" Ray asked, just to be sure he had the story straight.

"Yes, we let the rumor spread to help deter thieves from searching for it. The other three treasures were each safeguarded in different ways. In the case of the Queen's Tears, we used the rumor that it had been relocated."

"But it hadn't?" Ray wondered.

"It had, in a manner of speaking. I'll explain in a moment. But first... Florian, if you would let us examine your wounds?" Marcus waited as Florian scanned the room, clearly reluctant to take off his shirt in front of so many people. But then he remembered that most of them had seen him shirtless already and stood up to comply with Marcus' request.

"Turn around please," Marcus asked once Florian had removed his shirt and draped it over the back of his chair. "Laila, if you would remove his bandages?"

Gently, Laila unwrapped the covering on his old whip wounds as well as the bandage on his lower back covering the dagger injuries. In both cases, the wounds were completely gone leaving smooth, unmarked flesh.

"How is this possible?" Ray demanded, unable to stop himself from going over and touching that pale skin. He'd traced his initials on that back many times since Azura had made him mark Florian. Now they were gone completely with no trace that they or any of the whip wounds had ever been there. The bruises were gone as well. He moved in front of Florian and looked for the small scar just above his hip. It was gone. 

"Look at your wrist," Laila suggested, referring to the small, thin scars that he had carried for years. They were gone.

"But... " He broke off, suddenly realizing the answer. "The Queen's Tears. You have the flask."

"Not exactly. The treasure is hidden," Marcus assured him. "But..." he drew out his answer, enjoying the looks on the men's faces. Florian had put his shirt back on and was sitting down watching him intently, waiting for the rest of the explanation. Ray, on the other hand was smiling as if he'd figured it out already. He started to laugh.

"Yes, Ray. The flask is safely hidden away." He turned to Florian. "What do you remember of the flask? What does it contain?"

"A magic healing elixir. One that never runs out."

"Exactly." Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flask containing a greenish liquid. "Never ending supply."

"So you check the flask periodically to be sure it's safe and you fill up a few bottles with the elixir while you're there." Ray leaned back and laughed but Florian still looked troubled.

"But how? If the Queen's Flame is touched, a poison gas is released and everyone in the chamber dies instantly. Why isn't there a similar safeguard for the flask?"

"There is," Marcus assured him. "We don't move the flask itself. One of my ancestors punctured the flask by accident. He had to rig a stopper to keep from drowning in the stuff. Since then we've replaced the stopper with a tap."

Ray laughed heartily at the very idea, but Florian wasn't sure he liked the idea of a magical liquid being doled out like ale at the local pub.  
+++++

Solomon trudged up the dirt lane wishing he knew where he was going. He'd been assured by the policeman that a man similar to Florian's description was staying at the house of a healer on the edge of town.

The rest of the rescue party had decided to stay in town until their ship arrived but had invited him to join them in the pub any night from now until then. Solomon had almost been tempted to take them up on their offer, but his conscience wouldn't let him.

So here he was trudging towards the faint light in the distance wondering if it was really getting farther away or if his imagination was playing tricks on him.

He was almost there when a man appeared out of the shadows and stopped him.

"Explain yourself, stranger," the man demanded.

"I come in search of a lost friend. A man in town told me he might be here. Florian du Rochefort?" Solomon watched the man's face carefully, hoping for a flicker of recognition. When there was none, he added, "Blond hair, amethyst eyes. Very pale skin."

"What would you want with this man if you found him?"

"I want to bring him good news. He believes his mother perished in a fire, but she is alive and wants him to come home." Solomon considered giving some shorter version of the story but hoped that by being completely honest and open about his mission, he might convince the man to help him. If he could help. He was about to give up when the man relented.

"Come along then. You've missed the meal but there's plenty left. Looks like you could use it."

Solomon wanted to hug the man, he was so relieved by his answer. Instead, he held out his hand and introduced himself. The man shook the hand but didn't give his name in return.

They traveled the short distance to the house in silence but Solomon was too tired to worry about feeling awkward. When he was invited into the house, Solomon almost cried out in relief at seeing the man he'd come so far to find - at least he hoped it was him - he hadn't expected him to be bald.

Before he could stop himself, he hurried forward calling his name.

"Yes?" Florian asked, rising and stepping up to meet Solomon. He studied the man curiously. “I know you! You helped me when I was lost."

"Yes I did. And I’m here to help you find your way home again. Your mother sent me; she’s alive." In retrospect, Solomon could have kicked himself for such a classless way of bringing up a delicate subject, but it was too late to take it back, and Florian handled the news surprisingly well.

"I'm sorry, M Sugar. You are mistaken. Perhaps the stress of the travel." Florian turned to Laila and was glad to see that she and her aunt were already preparing tea and soup for the new arrival.

"Come, let me introduce you to our hosts and you can enjoy their hospitality." Florian led him through the introductions and escorted him to a seat at the table before sitting across from him. He was glad to see that Laila and her family were willing to give him a little privacy and equally glad to see that Ray was planted firmly at his side.

"I went to the Rochefort castle in Loire and met your mother on the sixteenth of last month. She was not in your home when it burned - that was someone else." Solomon didn't want to mention the aunt and uncle now, not when he'd made such a mess of telling Florian about his mother. Besides, he thought that Madame du Rochefort ought to explain her new hobby of murder to her son. "She sent me to find you. She wants you to come home."

"There is no home to return to," Florian said quietly. "Where is mother?"

"She's staying with Lady Fairmont."

The answer seemed to make Florian feel a bit better. Solomon could see him relaxing, but he was obviously still wary.

"Florian," Ray interrupted the awkward silence. "We can send her a telegram tomorrow and let her know that Solomon has found you and that you are fine."

"She'll want me to return to Paris," Florian said worriedly. Solomon wasn't sure what he should say to that - he knew that Madame had mentioned leaving France.

"Don't you want to go back?" Ray asked, curious at Florian's odd reluctance to return home.

"Yes... I mean... It's just that..." he took a deep breath and answered clearly. "It isn't a secret that I sold myself to that man to pay the family debts." Florian didn't say anything more but he didn't need to. Ray knew from experience how cruel people could be. It would be very difficult for Florian to go back, especially since he had no home or money.

"I happen to have a place in Paris that I haven't visited in a while. I could accompany you and Solomon on a trip back and, if you decide you don't want to stay, you could accompany me to one of my other houses - in Italy or England."

"I'd like that very much," Florian replied, smiling widely at the thought of having Ray at his side when facing down his judgmental peers. "Yes, we'll send that telegram in the morning and then make arrangements for a return trip as soon as possible."

"My ship is expected to arrive soon, Perhaps there will be space available. You can meet my traveling companion, Henri Tassel and his son Noel. They are very nice people."

"Excellent," Florian said, feeling much better already. He settled in with a cup of tea that Laila gave him and smiled at the way Ray and Solomon traded banter. He felt better than he had in a very long time.  
+++++

Lady Fairmont read the telegram through misty eyes. It had arrived a day too late; Helene had left for England the day before, to a destination she refused to reveal. Eloise had done her best to persuade her friend to stay, but there had been disturbing rumors about an inquiry into the Rochefort mansion fire and Helene had insisted on leaving.

Taking a moment to compose herself, she drafted a short reply telling Florian to come home to her, and sent it off with a servant. She'd break the news to the boy when he was safely home.  
+++++

Florian stood on the deck of the ship watching as the shore receded. He held his new friend in his arms and smiled as Noel chattered on about his adventures in fighting pirates.

Beside them, the boy's father and Solomon were conversing quietly. To his other side was Ray, who seemed to be watching Florian more than the sights.

Laila was below deck preparing their cabins. It had been a complete surprise when she'd asked to come with them to Paris, and at first both Ray and Florian had refused, but slowly Florian had relented, listening to her wish to see Paris, and Italy and all the other places she'd only dreamed of. He didn't really understand her willingness to leave her family so soon after returning to them but he accepted it.

Ray seemed to have a better understanding of her reasons and when Florian pressed her too hard, he just told him to let it go.

It was going to be strange, Florian decided. Things were so different now. Perhaps he was a little bit different himself, having been an aristocrat, and then another man's toy and now a protector and a teacher.

He felt the weight of the tiny harp in his pocket, thankful that it had survived the many adventures. It wasn't just a symbol of his clan - it was a reminder of where he had been - what he had been - and a promise of what he could become. That made it more precious to him than any diamond, than any flask. Certainly more precious than gold or jewels.

He looked at the group around him, all new friends, and decided that there was nothing ahead, certainly nothing in Paris that could frighten him when he had so many people on his side.

Setting Noel down gently, he turned to Ray and smiled. The man smiled back and Florian knew that he'd found a home that he would never lose.

::end::


End file.
